In the Absence of Color
by LiveLifeWithLove
Summary: What is color, really? It's a mask. Hiding the hate, the secrets, and true perfection. Well, Kurt can't see colors, so why isn't he perfect? But don't worry, he will be. He's making sure of that. Warning: contains eating disorder and abuse.
1. Prologue

**A/N): Hello again! The idea for this fic came to me during **_**Dalton: Witnessed**_**, but I wanted to finish that before I started on a new story. So now that it's over (sobs), I decided to hop right on in! Sorry about the length though—they get longer! Next chapter is almost 1000 words longer. XD**

**This would have been posted a lot earlier if I wasn't still so scared of my writing being horrible. I have the first 4 chapters written already—they sort of get everything set up. At least you'll (most likely) get regular updates! (I was thinking every Thursday? Maybe?)**

**This story is definitely AU. Burt is not the loving, accepting father that we all know him as. And our Kurt is not quite the same either. *More info in bottom A/N.**

**Also: The story will be rated T for now, until some later chapter walks in and I feel the need to change it.**

**Disclaimer: Nope. I **_**still **_**don't own Glee…**

* * *

**In the Absence of Color**

**Chapter One: Prologue**

_-:-Kurt-:-_

"Kurt, hand me that plastic container."

I sighed. I'm of doing little menial tasks like these. I was just as capable, if not more, than my father at repairing these cars. Besides, I was just itching to get my hands on the vintage that had just rolled in. But Burt would never let me touch it. It was such a shame.

"Kurt." Burt persisted, shooting me a look over his shoulder. I sighed as I turned to the rack.

"Which one?" I asked, my eyes scanning the rows upon rows of plastic.

"The red one."

I sighed. He was really going to do this to me? I searched harder, my eyes squinting. I glanced down at my shirt. I thought I remember this shirt as being red. I compared it with the color of the cans and grabbed the one I felt was closest.

As I handed it to him, Burt scoffed. "I said the red one!"

I glared at the offending can before gingerly setting it back on the shelf. If I complained now, things would just get worse later.

I tried to get more information surreptitiously. "What does it say on it?"

He wasn't going to bite. "It's the only red one on the shelf, Kurt."

Okay, that's something. What single can stood out from the rest? That one. This time I was sure I got it right.

"Kurt, that's purple."

I sighed. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

I called Mercedes for some much needed girl time. I was in a bad mood after spending my afternoon in the garage.

She arrived within minutes. "Bad day?" She questioned as she pulled me into a hug.

I shrugged. "It took me 20 minutes to find the red can."

She smiled sadly. "C'mon, let's go coordinate your outfits for this week." Mercedes tugged me down the staircase, metaphorically screeching to a halt in front of my admittedly impressive closet.

We spent the next while digging through the clothes, muttering things like "No, I was talking about the other green one!", "Is this that maroon one you mentioned earlier?", and "Kurt! This shade of blue will look _amazing _with your eyes!"

Mercedes dragged me in front of the mirror, modeling the shirt in front of me and smiled appreciatively. "I have a good eye."

She was right. At least from what I could see, it also went with my skin tone. Props to Mercedes.

"Oh, what would I do without you?" I cried, clutching her arm dramatically.

"Be fashionably inept."

* * *

Mercedes left not too long after, leaving me to my own devices. Needless to say, that never ends well. For a while now, I've been spending my free time simply staring at… anything and everything.

I studied my walls, my closet, my floor, my desk. Grey, black, white.

That's all I saw. And all I've ever seen.

You know how people always muse about how they would explain a color to an alien? Well, consider me an alien by all means.

I, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, am seventeen years old, but I could not tell you the difference between blue and green, yellow and white, red and purple.

Really though, people put too much stock into colors. What is their purpose, really? They're nothing but a mask, a shield. Hiding the hate, the emotions, the secrets that lie beneath everything in this world.

So in the absence of color, what is there for one to see?

* * *

**(A/N): Hope you liked it! Here's some extra background information that may be helpful, especially in later chapters.**

**Kurt **_**is**_** colorblind, and his specific type is extremely rare: Cerebral Achromatopsia. To dumb it down a bit, there's nothing wrong with his eyes (the rods and cones) but the signals aren't getting processed or even reaching the brain. Also, it's not hereditary.**

**Some symptoms of this type of colorblindness:**

** -Inability to differentiate colors**

** -Severe light sensitivity**

** -Long-sightedness**

** -Involuntary eye movements**

**So this and the next chapters are sort of setting up the basis for this story.**

**Hope you enjoy. Until next time!**

**Oh, and anyone who wants to discuss (spaz) about "Big Brother" with me—please do!**

**~DFTBA and Best Wishes!**


	2. When at Dance

**(A/N): Here's this chapter a bit earlier than next Thursday, but Chapter 1 was really short and I felt this sort of compensated. :) Or if you don't believe that... Happy Friday the 13th! (It's my 5/6 Birthday!) XD**

**Get ready for some plot and a character introduction! This chapter (and chapters 3 and 4) will still be sort of setting up the premise, so… yeah. :)**

**This one's longer, too! I hope it holds you over until Thursday!**

**Special thanks to **_**Sunday morning on saturday**_**, who was my first reviewer! **

**Disclaimer: No Glee ownage. Sorry. :(**

* * *

**Chapter 2:**

**When at Dance**

_-:-Kurt-:-_

I couldn't wait to get out of the house.

If there was ever a better time for me to leave, please let me know.

The fight with my father was horrendous. Unfortunately, they were becoming more frequent. And oh, how the topics varied!

My sexuality. My sight. My general lack of perfection.

And with that frame of mind, I left for dance class. The one thing I could look forward to in my life. I loved to dance. I loved the feeling of being able to just let all my thoughts go and just _move. _I loved the feeling of my body moving to the music, the burning in my muscles, the rush of oxygen to my lungs.

My dance class was my sanctuary. Ms. V, my dance instructor, sort of took up the parental role in my life. Because, seriously? It was lacking.

In my haste, I arrived incredibly early. But instead of loitering around, I decided to dress and stretch.

My body moved smoothly through the practiced motions. I felt the warmth spread through my muscles and the tingling in my limbs. I sighed in happiness; what a stress reliever!

More people burst through the door, laughing boisterously. My momentary peace was shattered. I sighed and moved closer to the wall. I always sort of kept to myself during class. I guess that was a side effect of living my life. You know, being alone.

Soon enough the entire class was present, apart from the teacher. Where was Ms. V? She's usually not one to be late.

"Enough chatter!" A woman said as she walked briskly through the door. "Get in a line."

We did so. I opened my mouth to ask a question. "Ms. V is no longer your instructor. My name is Mrs. Hawkins." She said, answering my question before I could get the words out.

My shoulders slumped slightly. I really liked Ms. V! She was one of—well, few would be an exaggeration—the only one who actually cared about me. "Stand up straight!" She admonished me, grabbing me by the chin and tugging upwards. I grunted in discomfort and annoyance.

"Now…" She trailed off into a short lecture akin to one a teacher would give on the first day of class. A grumpy teacher. Who hated children.

I really wasn't paying much attention to what she had been saying. My thoughts had wandered to the reasons behind Ms. V's sudden disappearance. My eyes roved around the room, landing on her face.

Uh oh.

She didn't look too happy, but maybe she always looked like that. Despite that, I suppose I should listen anyways.

"…and I am _not _afraid of kicking you out if you don't work, and work _hard_." She paced back and forth in front of our line. Her voice was fierce and rough. Kind of grating, actually. I _really _wanted to stuff a sock in her mouth.

She stopped in front of Brielle, who was at the front of the line, and eyed her up and down. She spit out a couple of moves for Brielle to do. Was she testing us?

Yes.

With an unreadable look on her face, she moved on down the line. Luckily, I was near the end, so maybe I could pick up on some key details.

Tristan, Laura, Jessie, Sierra. Her reactions ranged from seemingly pleased smiles, downright derisive glares, and noncommittal grunts.

Sooner than expected, it was my turn. I smoothly went through the part of the routine she specified. It was my favorite part, fortunately, and I felt I did it well.

But as I took in the look on her face, apparently not. "You think _that _was up to par? Do it again!" She ordered harshly as she pressed her hand hard against my abdomen. "And _suck it in! _You've got to do something to distract from those pear hips! Lose a few or you're out."

I stood there, mouth gaping open unattractively. "Keep it closed, you'll attract flies." She sneered, tapping my chin. I shut my mouth so fast you could hear my teeth clack together.

I glared as she moved on, resisting the urge to grind my teeth. I turned my attention to Arianna, who was standing next to me. "Did I really do that bad?" I breathed.

"No, you did wonderfully," She insisted, a confused look on her face. "And trust me, Kurt, you're figure is beautiful. I don't know what her problem is."

* * *

I left dance that day feeling even worse than before. Some bitchy new instructor? I couldn't quite stop myself from pinning her as a homophobe.

Well, I couldn't say that with complete conviction. I had no proof of this. She seemed to be horrible to everyone. So, until that time came, I forced myself to think she was just strict and hot-headed.

I slumped onto my bed as soon as I returned home. I could only pray to the Questionable God that this was all just a horrible dream that I would soon wake up from, Ms. V would be back and I wouldn't have lost the only one who cared.

* * *

_-:-Blaine-:-_

Simply put, I'm hopeless.

I can't believe that I even found a job like this, just so I could go and screw it up by not even being there because I couldn't find the building. Yeah. Way to go, Blaine!

It's not everyday you come across a job doing something you love. Even more so when that something you love is music. I got a job playing piano for a competitive dance group and I could not be more grateful for that.

Unless I'm already fired.

I checked the address one more time, glancing around me. Oh! There it is. I fought the urge to face palm; I'd passed this building several times!

I pushed open the door tentatively, searching around for the scary lady who had employed me.

"Where were you?" I heard from behind me. I could have sworn my heart was trying to jump straight through my ribcage. Where the hell did she come from?

"I had some trouble getting here," I said, plastering on my most charming smile. "I apologize." There, that was dapper. Hopefully this wouldn't be over before it even had the chance to begin. I didn't really want to spend more time than I had to at home.

She eyed me critically. For such a tiny woman, she had a severe-looking face and a stance that yelled 'Don't mess with me!'. Her entire vibe was similar to that of a bird of prey. To say the least, I would not want to be on her bad side. "Alright. You know where it is now, I'd hope. Be here for tomorrow's practice at noon."

I nodded, holding back a sigh of relief. That went better than I'd had the audacity to hope. After a bit of small talk, she pulled me outside so she could lock up and leave.

I clambered into my car and headed back towards home.

I hope all goes well tomorrow.

* * *

I take extreme care to make sure I arrive on time the next day. In doing this, I'm actually there about ten minutes early. I enter cautiously, and am relieved to see there are a few people here. It would have felt weird if it had been empty, leaving me to just sit at my piano and wait.

I watched curiously as the few people stretched, talked, and danced. I notice one person in particular, a boy, who was standing off from the others in a corner. The room was filling quickly as starting time neared. As more people filed into the room, the warier the look on the boy's face grew.

His eyes scanned the room, squinting slightly. His eyes widened fractionally. I hardly had the time to wonder why before a loud, resonating voice filled the room. "Alright! Today, we are getting down to business. Your routines are sloppy! We need to sharpen the movements, get the syncopation down!" She slapped her fist on her palm. "The judges will notice if even one of you gets off." She glared at each and every one of the group, lingering on the boy in the corner. "Synchronization is key. Don't screw it up."

Wow. She's passionate, if a little brash. I looked around the room idly, unsure of what I was supposed to do.

"Oh, yes!" Mrs. Hawkins started again. "Blaine is our new piano player. Kurt!" She called. The boy I had noticed earlier approached her slowly. Now that I've had a closer look, he looks oddly familiar. "Take the sheet music to him."

"Where is he?" I heard him ask.

"He's the one in the blue shirt." Mrs. Hawkins answered before turning away.

For some reason, Kurt looked distressed. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Kurt swallowed before trying again. "I-I'm sorry, I can't—"

Mrs. Hawkins gave Kurt a disarming smile. "Blaine!" She barked. I shot up from the piano bench. "There." She pointed at me, and Kurt made his way across the room.

I couldn't help but notice the sheer grace in which he moved. His footsteps were light, his posture incredible. Every move he made had a sort of fluidity to it, as if every motion was part of a dance.

Once he reached me, I shook myself out of my haze. I nodded in thanks as he handed me the papers, looking them over quickly. I glanced up right before he was to turn away…

And caught a glimpse of his eyes.

His eyes! It seemed that they had no true, single color to describe them. They couldn't seem to decide whether to be blue, grey, or green. I was entranced by the shimmering orbs. I've never seen anything so beautiful, so enrapturing in my entire life.

He shot me a nervous look. Oh, I was staring. And then… he spoke.

"Can I help you?" His eyebrow rose slightly. His voice was high and clear, like an angel's.

"No, no. Sorry. Your eyes are just… beautiful. What color are they?" I asked mindlessly, trying to remain cool and collected as my thoughts went on a rampage. And then I realized what had come out of my mouth and winced internally.

"I don't know," He said, his eyebrows creasing. I held back a smile as his head tilted to the side. It really was too adorable.

We both turned sharply as Mrs. Hawkins as she called out for the start of a routine. Kurt nodded to me before merging into the group.

I watched Kurt move. I saw as the thoughts, the worry slipped from his face, and was replaced by a mask of fierce determination.

I had a bit of time to think as I watched them dance. Then I realized why Kurt had looked so familiar; he had just transferred into Dalton about a month and a half back. My thoughts were derailed when I heard an annoyed grunt.

I grimaced as Mrs. Hawkins roughly pulled Kurt out of formation, shoving on his torso and scolding him.

The worry was back.

* * *

**(A/N): Hope you enjoyed! Any feedback is welcomed.**

**Oh and here are some things I felt may have needed clarification:  
Kurt is completely colorblind. He can see only in shades of black and white. For more information you can PM me or just look at the end A/N for last chapter. :)**

**Also, there are warnings in the summary; those things are going to happen, just not yet. Some things are getting set up and then I'll hop into that. And looking forward, I can't tell if I may need to up the rating, but I'll let you all know if I do**.

**Thank you all so much for your support. It means so much!**

**~DFTBA and Best Wishes!**


	3. Dalton

**(A/N): Hey guys! Happy Thursday!**

**I've had this chapter written up for quite a while now, so I'm glad I finally get to post it. Geez, it's been harder to sit on these completed chapters than I'd thought. XD**

**Okay. And sorry if there are some mistakes. I checked it today but I'm also very sick and dizzy so I couldn't sit upright for too long. Still don't know what's up. I went to the doc yesterday, but they haven't told us anything yet. I had to get blood drawn for the first time, though. *shudders* For a girl who has a phobia of blood and a **_**major **_**phobia of needles, and then for it to take them **_**three tries**_**… let's just say I panicked a bit.**

**But at least I now have the time to watch Holy Musical Bman! I'm so excited, and so far it's freaking hilarious! If only Darren was in it… :(**

**Sorry, on with the story!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or there would be more Klaine. :P**

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

**Dalton**

_-:-Blaine-:-_

Now that I had noticed Kurt, it was as if I was seeing him everywhere. In the halls, in the cafeteria, even in some of my classes. I don't understand how I had just never noticed him. It was like his image was seared into my brain, and I could pick him out of a crowd at whim.

I also noticed the absence of that determined look he had while he danced. Or, more accurately, the presence of the abundant worry. Sometimes, though, it was worse than just fear or worry. It was blank, expressionless.

I noted quite a few things about him, actually. It seemed he was all that was on my mind, and I could do nothing but let my eyes scan the room for him, searching out that perfectly coiffed chestnut brown hair, the sparkling eyes, the graceful way in which he moved.

From what I… um, observed, Kurt was a bit of a loner. He didn't really seem to have that many friends, if any at all. He sat alone at lunch, curled up with a book or simply staring off into space. The food he purchased sat untouched on the tabletop more often than not.

He also seemed to be one of those kids that Dalton was known for and prized; 4.0 GPA, the inexorable drive, the charming personality, the respect and kindness without being overbearing. He even had an eidetic memory. Kurt Hummel: model student.

I saw, on that first day after the dance studio, the recognition in his eyes when he saw me in the hallways. But he made no move to talk to me, or to contact or acknowledge me in any way.

So I figured I would take the situation into my own hands.

I went through the lunch line quickly, grabbing chicken nuggets, fries and a juice before heading to his table. I stood awkwardly behind him for a second before I spoke up.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

He spun to face me, surprise evident on his face. "Uh, no, I guess. I-If you want."

I smiled and set my tray down, pressing down that weird and sudden urge I had to hear his voice again. I dug through my mind for something to talk about. I blink as I realize I don't know much about him when I come up blank. Well, we'll have to change that, won't we? I settled on the one thing I did know about the boy sitting in front of me.

"So how long have you been dancing for? You're really good."

He shrugged his shoulders a bit. "Since I was really young." He paused for a second. "And according to the Hawk," I giggled quietly at the nickname the dance team had pegged her with, "I'm nothing but mediocre."

"You can't seriously think that!" I said dubiously. Kurt jumped a little. "I've never seen anyone who can move like you."

Kurt blushed, wringing his hands. "Well, um… thanks."

I smiled. Conversation flowed a bit easier from there, though it was still mostly one-sided. We talked about generic things; Dalton, the coursework, the pain of gym class, music.

I found out that Kurt was into show tunes. That was something. I took that and ran with it. "Favorite musical?" I questioned.

"Wicked. Or Rent. I could never decide." He said, smiling softly.

"Do you sing?"

He nods.

It was the start of a wonderful friendship.

* * *

_-:-Kurt-:-_

I was in shock the rest of the day. _Blaine Anderson_ actually sat with me at lunch. What the hell? People like him didn't come _near_ people like me.

But he did.

In time, I hoped I could come to call him a friend.

And it seems I did. He sat at lunch with me every day after that. Once he even dragged me to the table he usually sat at: the Warblers table. I felt a bit left out, because _hello! _Not a Warbler.

But it made me think I wanted to be. And I think that was his plan. He was petitioning for me to join ever since I let spill that I liked to sing. I never even said if I was any good. And still, he persisted.

Anyways, like I said: we were becoming closer. I didn't know what to feel about that. I loved having someone there for me to talk to, someone who was like me, but at the same time I wished he would leave me be and let me be a loner. I was used to being alone. I knew _how _to. My brain was all messed up.

One day at lunch, our conversation took a sudden twist.

"You transferred here mid-semester, Kurt, right? What school did you go to?"

I hesitated. Why did he want to know? Was he trying to—No. he was just curious. Calm yourself, Kurt. "McKinley." I finally answered.

"Ah, public school." Blaine said with a tight smile on his face. "Brings out the worst in people."

"What do you mean?" I asked slowly. Was he implying I was a bad person?

"You know, it forms a sort of hierarchy between the kids. The jocks and cheerleaders and the ones up top think they're all that and they can do whatever they want, even if what they want is hurting other people." My eyes followed his hands and they made little gestures, illustrating his point.

I nodded understandingly, my mind flashing to images of Karofsky, the feel of the hard, cold metal of lockers on my back and the stench of a full dumpster filling my nose. "Tell me about it."

Blaine looked towards me with an odd look in his eyes. "Were… were you bullied, Kurt?"

I swallowed. I remembered the conversation I'd had with Burt on this subject. That hadn't gone down too well, naturally.

* * *

"_Why the hell should I use the money __**I **__earned to pay for a new school for you? Just to get you away from some guys who are trying to knock some sense into ya?"_

"_Because, Burt! Don't you want me out of here someday? Better high school diploma, the farther away I go."_

* * *

"A bit." My answers were taking a while to get out today, and I'm sure Blaine noticed. But he didn't say anything, for which I was grateful.

"Don't worry," he said, turning his gaze to meet mine. I briefly wondered what color could make a shade of grey look _that_ beautiful. "I was, too."

My head cocked to side a bit. I wanted to ask why, but surely he would expect an answer from me, and there was no way I was going to scare off my only friend because—

"Because I'm gay."

Oh. Wow. Can we say _plot twist_, anyone?

I cleared my throat, averting my gaze. His damn eyes were distracting me. But I had to answer; I know from experience that any length of silence after a confession like that could be taken the wrong way. "Oh, um… me, too."

A new look washed over his features. I couldn't tell what it was—relief? Confusion? Sympathy?

"Then you'll understand what I mean when I say some things from your past are simply unforgettable."

_Yes, yes I do. _I thought. Then I nodded, because Blaine was not in my head.

"You know, Kurt," Blaine said with a sweet smile, "it's nice to have a friend to talk to about this kind of stuff with now. I mean, Wes and David and them are great, but they don't really… _get _it, you know?"

Yes, I did, except maybe not as fully as I would have liked. You see, I have never had the problem of having friends who didn't understand. I didn't have friends, _period._

"This is just perfect, Kurt. You're perfect."

Oh, am I?

* * *

_Preview of Chapter 4: Perfect…_

_I stood in my room silently after I had cleaned myself up. My head was no longer bleeding, and the extensive bruising that besieged my body was either masked or hidden easily by clothing._

_I never knew how to feel after an episode like this. Was I supposed to be angry? Upset? Because I wasn't. The only emotion I could muster was remorse. _

* * *

**(A/N): Love? Hate? Let me know your thoughts!**

**Oh, and would you like it if I keep putting those little preview things? Let me know on that as well.**

**Next chapter… oooh I'm **_**SO **_**excited for next chapter! To put it bluntly, that's where a lot of shit goes down. It's also kind of the last of the 'set-up' chapters. It lies down the last chunk of foundation for this story.**

**Here are some questions I've been asked by **_**EllaCrain**_**:**

_**Is Burt married to Carole?**_

**No. Burt was married to Kurt's mother, Elizabeth, until she died. The rest of the relationships, especially with ND, will be explained later.**

_**At the beginning [of Chapter 2] when Kurt says they fight about his sexuality and other things, is that just normal teenage angst or is Burt not as accepting as in the show?**_

**No again. It's not just teenage angst, though it may play a part. My Burt is not as accepting as the Burt we all know and love. It'll be explained with more detail soon. :)**

**If you have any other questions or concerns, feel free to let me know and I'll do my best to answer/fix them.**

**Until next time!**

**~DFTBA and Best Wishes!**


	4. Perfect

**(A/N): I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! XD**

**Alfred is up and running for the time being, and I have my files on the back up thing (which I will do regularly). So, for now, everything is good. YAY!  
**

**Except for it not wanting to post when I tried at 5:30. So now you get it at 8:00, okay?**

**So, back to the story, I guess? It's been awhile… two, three weeks? I feel bad, so I hope this chapter makes up for it. It's kind of short, but if I went too much longer it would have lost the meaning behind it and, well, these things needed to happen. :(**

**Special thanks to my internet buddies (you know who you are!) who have kept me sane through my lack of connection. Without you guys, I wouldn't have sanity. So really, all of you should thank them. :)**

**Okay… I don't think "enjoy" is the right sentiment, but still. Do whatever seems right. :/**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Glee. Or else there would have been WAY more Klisses**.

* * *

**Chapter 4:**

**Perfect**

_-:-Kurt-:-_

Punch to the face.

"You stupid _faggot!_"

Fall to the floor.

"Why does your kind even bother to _breathe_?"

A rough kick to the gut.

"Do us all a favor and _don't._"

Pulled up, shoved into the cabinet.

"Why couldn't you have been _straight_?"

Glass shattered.

"I didn't raise you to become a disappointment!"

Tossed aside, flopping lifelessly.

"Why can't you be my perfect son?"

A weak groan shatters the silence.

A boot to the head.

"That's all I ask for."

Consciousness… fades into black.

* * *

I woke up in a pile of glass shards. Every inch of my body was sore. I choked back a groan as I fought to sit up. Everything flashed back at once. My mind was disoriented, and the room was beginning to spin.

Okay, Kurt, calm down.

I made to sort through my thoughts logically. Maybe that would help calm the confusing flurry of activity in my brain at the moment. What had happened to land me here?

Oh yes. Burt had been drunk. And I, well, I was being _faggy._

* * *

_Burt had been drinking for the better part of an hour. Empty bottles littered the room. He was getting hungry. Where was that damned kid when he actually wanted him?_

_The doorbell rang. Was that him? No. It was the mailman._

"_Hello, sir!" he said happily, not noticing his sour mood or level of intoxication."I have a package, and then I noticed your mailbox was quite full, so I just brought it all up for you."_

_Burt grunted in reply, snatching the package from his hands, signing for it sloppily. The boy smiled a little more hesitantly. He extended his hand towards Burt, the one that was holding the contents of the mailbox._

_Burt grabbed those and slammed the door in his face._

_He dug through the haze in his head to see what was in his large hands. Bills, bills, notices, ads… what's this?_

_A fucking fashion magazine? What the hell is 'Vogue'? The silky paper slipped through his sweaty hands. Burt stumbled to the ground to look on the floor where it had opened._

_There were pictures and articles featuring models in fancy clothes who were modeling makeup, handbags, and other merchandise._

_Surely this was a mistake. Burt wouldn't have ordered this. He was satisfied with his flannel, thank you very much. Besides, this was a magazine for __**girls. **__And he was surely not a fag._

_He searched for a name or some sort of identification; surely it hand been sent to the wrong house. He was sure the neighbors had a teenage girl; it must be hers._

_Alas, the name on the little label read 'Kurt Hummel'._

_Rage simmered in his belly. That son of a bitch! He was spending __**his **__hard-earned money on faggy shit like this? He wouldn't, he simply couldn't tolerate this._

_The door opened again._

_Ah, there he was._

* * *

I shuddered, shoving the memory away. I didn't need to relive that, thank you very much.

I sighed and moved on to the next step in what was becoming a well-practiced procedure.

Time for the customary check.

Any head wounds? Were they bleeding?

Yes, there was a gash on the back of my head. Warm blood seeped through my fingers. Hopefully it wasn't too deep; I didn't want to have to go in for stitches. Damned doctors… they always asked too many questions that I didn't want to answer.

Broken bones?

I flexed my arms, my wrists. They seemed fine, if a little sore and definitely bruised. I shifted my legs, bending my knees and moving my ankles in a circle. My knee and hip burned a bit from slashes that must have been from falling into the pile of broken glass. I took a deep breath—_oh! _Ribs.

A hand flew to hug my torso. I brushed my fingertips across my chest lightly. They seemed to only be bruised. At least, I couldn't feel any misplaced bones. Not like last time. Well, this new development would put a damper on my dancing. Damn.

I struggled to my feet and stumbled to my room. Hopefully Burt wouldn't follow me, and I would be safe to sort through the final part of my inspection.

Bruises.

* * *

I stood in my room silently after I had cleaned myself up. My head was no longer bleeding, and the extensive bruising that besieged my body was either masked or hidden easily by clothing.

I never knew how to feel after an episode like this. Was I supposed to be angry? Upset? Because I wasn't. The only emotion I could muster was remorse.

Oh, and fear. I was terribly afraid that Burt would go too far one day. And just like that… my life would be gone. There would be no chance of me leaving a mark, not any sort of trace of _me _for anyone down the line to remember_, _and all the time in the world for me to be forgotten.

But honestly, I had no right to feel this. I brought this all upon myself, after all. That's why I pushed those emotions away. Or any others that happened to come around. Being numb would save me, some day, I just knew it. What was the use deluding myself, anyways?

But the fear remained present, no matter how hard I tugged it back into the recesses of my mind.

I made no sound as I heard Burt banging around downstairs. He sounded drunk; his random bursts of speech were slurred. That made sense; he was usually drunk when he beat me. I set myself to keeping out of his way and remaining unnoticeable. Out of sight, out of mind, after all.

I tossed my bloodied shirt into the trash. As I turned, I caught myself in front of my full length mirror. I spun this way and that, slowly studying, taking it all in from a couple different angles.

My hand came up to rest on my stomach, pressing slightly, smoothing out the fabric of the undershirt that covered my skin. My other hand moved to join it. I squeezed, a grimace forming on my features. I could just _feel _the fat rolling underneath my fingertips. The Hawk had been right.

I tore the shirt off impatiently. I sighed as I took in my appearance. I always used to think I had a nice body, at least compared to those at school. The Dalton blazer hid more than I'd originally thought, I guess.

My hands continued to roam my body. I pulled and picked at the skin, shaking my head in disgust. That fine, lithe smattering of muscles I had built up from Cheerios and dance have faded faster than I thought, even with all the conditioning and dieting I've been doing for my upcoming recital.

My hand pressed on the skin. I pulled a face; I was disgusting! How could anyone even bear to look at me? My hands slid down to my hips. Oh _god! _I used to think I had slim hips, but that thought was immediately shot to hell. I turned to view in profile. No! That just made me look worse. I can't believe I had let myself slip this far. So much for calling myself a health freak.

I turned back towards the mirror. My thoughts were racing, but one thing was clear;

Dalton demanded the perfect grades.

Burt wished for a perfect son.

The Hawk wanted the perfect body.

Blaine needed the perfect friend.

I _would_ be perfect.

* * *

**(A/N): Phew. Glad that's FINALLY out there, in an odd way. :)**

**Okay, a few things: I have a Twitter, for those of you who have forgotten or just… whatever. It's xLivexandxLovex. So… yeah, follow if you want? I tweet about Glee a lot! XD**

**And I've missed Fanfiction guys, so much. It's great to be back, and I'd love to hear from y'all because this is the first like **_**really **_**angsty chapter I've ever posted so… yeah, feed back (AKA reassurances) would be greatly appreciated. **

**Okay, I promise I'm done rambling now.**

**~DFTBA et Meilleurs Vœux!**


	5. Just a Migraine

**(A/N): Why hello there! What a nice surprise it is to see you! :D**

**Sorry, my head hurts. :/ Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's definitely the longest so far; maybe a little less than double what last chapter was. So, yay for me?**

**Also, I apologize in advance for the wording of some sentences. We've been doing Shakespeare in Lit class and my brain has been wired for Shakespearean syntax. :(**

**Oh, and I'm answering a question someone asked me in the bottom A/N, so check there if ya want. :)**

**This also would've been posted about 2 or 3 hours earlier, but Microsoft Word decided to be a poopface and almost not save this file. :O And then the internet was like "Yeah, I'm not going to work quickly. DEAL!"**

**Yeah. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. If I did, it would NEVER end and NO ONE would EVER leave and it would go on FOREVER. (I'm really upset about this, if you can't tell).**

* * *

**Chapter 5:**

**Just a Migraine**

_-:-Blaine-:-_

Kurt really was wonderful.

It was really surprising how fast we became friends, seeing how closed off he is to basically anyone else. He doesn't really talk to people, or even meet their eyes. Those beautiful eyes are too often downcast, which lessens the time I spend falling into their depths. It also lessens the chance of him noticing. Anyways, Kurt's just shy. But there's really more to him than his cold exterior.

I mean, Kurt's the most amazing friend ever. He's there for you when you need him, yet he's not overbearing. He can give you good advice without sounding like a know-it-all. But best of all, he's just there for me to talk to. That's all I've really needed. I know I have Wes and David, or even Nick and Jeff if I wanted to talk to those who 'understood', but something just felt right with him. With Kurt. Whether it be a serious conversation or playful banter.

Like now. We were discussing, or more like arguing. Who was better: Lady Gaga or Katy Perry?

"Gaga all the way!" Kurt said as we sat down to lunch, lifting one hand up with a smirk.

"Katy Perry!" I protested. "She's done things no one could dream of doing."

Kurt chuckled breathily. "Yeah, except the woman herself: Gaga."

I sighed, shaking my head. "No Kurt, you don't understand…" And then I launched into a positively riveting tale of Katy Perry and her many achievements. "And she—"

"Uh, Blaine," Kurt interjected, smirking. "Your fangirl is showing."

I swatted at him playfully, my eyebrows creasing slightly when I noticed the way he tensed up just in the slightest. I brushed those thoughts away, playing it off as an eye trick. He seemed fine now, after all.

Our care-free chat continued on for the next ten minutes, Kurt supporting Gaga while I steadfastly backed Katy Perry. She is a legend, in the end.

Then Kurt suddenly looked away from me, blinking rapidly. He reached his hand up to rub at his eyes, an irritated sigh escaping his lips.

"Kurt?" I asked. "Is everything okay?"

"Headache." He grunted, but he still wouldn't stop pressing his hands against his eyes. He then stood up suddenly and walked away, muttering something about the nurse's office.

My eyebrows furrowed. I hoped he would be okay. I watched as he expertly weaved in and out of the crowds of people, his hand still mostly covering his eyes, until he disappeared behind the heavy wooden cafeteria doors. Huh. He was good at that.

I sighed. Well, I was alone now. I let my eyes wonder, simply roving around the familiar décor. My eyes came to rest on the table in front of me. Oh. Kurt never ate any of his lunch. His salad sat untouched on the opposite end of the table. That worried me even more. He really should have gotten some food into him. He was already so tiny.

My thoughts then drifted to what had just happened. It was so sudden. Kurt hadn't shown any signs of discomfort before that, unless I had just overlooked them. That could be the case, because I could be so oblivious sometimes. But still, something felt out of place.

He also seemed kind of… stiff today. Sore, almost. He breathed a bit shallower. Maybe he hurt himself while practicing for dance? I quickly convinced myself that of course, that made perfect sense. What else could have happened, anyways?

I was broken out of my thoughts when the dull roar of voices lifted into a crescendo. Time to go already?

I cleared up the table and headed to my next class, hoping to see Kurt there, having just taken an ibuprofen or Advil or something and smiling as I sat down.

* * *

_-:-Kurt-:-_

It was such a nice conversation. I was enjoying myself for once. And then my eyes had to go and ruin it.

We were debating the pros and cons of Katy Perry versus Lady Gaga. It was so lighthearted, so simple, so mindless. I didn't have to think too much into it. I didn't have to worry about messing everything up again. I could just _be._

But then I felt the subtle twitch of my eyelid, warning me of its intended actions. Hoping it was just a one time little thing, I continued talking. Then it got worse. And suddenly the dull lighting in the cafeteria was blinding.

I turned my head away, pressing my hands against my eyes. Damn it! I let out an irritated sigh as the muscles in my stupid eyes got worked up, twitching with spasms.

I faintly heard Blaine ask if I was alright. I didn't want him to get too suspicious, so I grumbled something about a headache and headed for the nurse's office.

* * *

I walked through the corridors as quickly as I could. Lunch was nearing its end, and the sooner I got the meds in me, the sooner they would work and I would be perfectly fine when I walked into the French room.

I pushed opened the door to the nurse's office. A pretty young lady looked up from where she was filling out some paperwork at a desk. "Can I help you?"

Rubbing my eyes one last time, I squinted down at her through the harsh lighting. "Yes, I'm Kurt Hummel. You should have medication on file for me?"

She shot me a small smile and a "Hold on one second, please." as she rifled through a drawer in a file cabinet on her left.

My hands went back to my eyes, trying to block out the light that was causing spots in my vision. My head pounded mercilessly, making it hard for me to focus and halting my racing train of thought. I started my little routine to help calm the twitching muscles. I massaged my temples, widening the pressure until it spanned out over my forehead and down to the corners of my eyes. I swiped my fingers across my eyelids, pressing for a second, before pushing at the bridge of my nose. Calming. Soothing. Breathing.

She gave a little noise of assent when she found it, which quickly turned to confusion as she turned the empty bottle over in her hands. "It seems were out, dear."

Calming exercises forgotten, my head shot up. "What?" I demanded, before my face crumpled into a grimace. Damned light.

"We're out of the medication for you." She repeated, holding up the empty bottle. "I'm sorry."

"God damn it!" I burst out, turning away from her frightened face. She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. "I'm sorry! I…I'm sorry." I said with a tight lipped smile. Yelling thay loudly _really _really hurt my ribs. "I need that medication and that's not the best news I could have gotten at the moment. " I apologized.

She nodded sympathetically. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" She asked.

"No, thanks." I said, before turning on my head and leaving, my eyes still spazzing, my head pounding, and the lights overwhelming.

* * *

I hoped with everything I had left in me that this problem would miraculously disappear by the time my feet reached the threshold of the French classroom. But I had no such luck.

I held back a groan. The lights in this room were even brighter than the ones in the hall. Curse this school's abundant funding. I covered my eyes to dull the searing pain in my retinas.

I squinted behind the cover of my hand as I made my way to Ms. Belle's desk. She looked up at me, her pleasant smile quickly changing to one of concern. "Kurt! Sont ce que ça va?" ("Kurt, are you alright?")

I shook my head as I replied in a whisper. My head was about to explode. "Non, mes yeux…" ("No, my eyes…")

She gently placed a hand on my shoulder, and I had to keep myself from stiffening at her touch. I liked her, I reminded myself; she was my favorite teacher. She wouldn't hurt me.

_You never thought you father would, either! _A voice in my head hissed. I shook my head to clear it of these thoughts. I didn't need to linger on things like that.

I almost missed her reply. "D'accord, je comprends. Voulez-vous poser votre tête sur le bureau pendant la classe?" ("Okay, I understand. Would you like to lay your head down on the desk during class?")

"Oui. Merci beaucoup." I replied, sliding gratefully into my seat and resting my head into the crook of my arms. I adjusted myself until the sounds were muffled and the light was blocked. There; peace.

Until I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I gasped in surprise as my head jerked up. I choked back a moan at the instant return of the beating in my head and the blazing burn in my eyes. Not the mention the blinding, sharp jab of pain from my ribs, causing spots in my vision. When my vision cleared, I saw Blaine looking at me with creased eyebrows.

"Kurt, are you okay?"

"M' fine." I responded half-heartedly, dropping my head back into my hands and resigning myself to a long day.

* * *

_-:-Blaine-:-_

I simply could not focus. At all.

How could I? My best friend was in obvious pain next to me, and here I was, forced to conjugate irregular verbs when I could be figuring out what was wrong and doing everything I could to help. Because that's what friends do.

I forced myself to try to read the words on the page in front of me. I racked my brain as I translated the directions. _Conjugate the given verb… blah, blah, finish the sentence. Okay, whatever._

Just as I picked up my pencil, my eyes strayed to Kurt. Poor Kurt. His head was tucked into his arms that formed a sort of cocoon around his head. He had hardly moved from this position since I had entered the room and class began. Ms. Belle seemed to know what was going on, because she didn't comment.

After her short lecture, she stopped by Kurt and leant over to whisper to him. He gave a tiny nod in response, as well as a whispered "Merci."

She rested her hand gently on his shoulder with a small smile and returned to her desk. My eyes went back to the tiny boy, whose pale skin shone in the fluorescent lighting. I wanted so badly to reach over, hug him, hold him, pet his hair until it was all better, kiss all the pain away…

I halted my thoughts there. Whoa. Uncharted territory, that was. I forced my brain back on French, and worked until the bell rang for the end of class… I promise, I did. I did _not _keep stealing glances at him, or let my thoughts drift to memories of that lithe body moving gracefully in dance, those eyes sparkling those few times he smiled. No, not at all.

When the bell did finally ring, I sighed and packed up my things. I looked over; Kurt hadn't moved. The room was almost half empty. He looked like he was sleeping, but I couldn't be sure. Just as I was debating whether or not to wake him, he lifted his head with a small groan and a grimace.

"Kurt?" I asked hesitantly. "Are you… are you sure you're okay enough to go to classes?"

He sucked in a slow breath, covering his eyes with his hands yet again. "Y-yeah, I'm fine."

I was still worried, but there wasn't anything else I could do. So I just kept a closer eye on him as we made our way to our math lesson. I walked close enough to him that our arms brushed, just in case. He seemed to sway on his feet a bit, like he was about to fall over. "Kurt?" I demanded.

"Dizzy." He whispered as he rubbed furiously at his temples. "Just dizzy." He sighed.

I made sure he was settled into his seat before I even though of anything else. I looked around the room for Mr. Keller, seeing him standing dauntingly at the door. I glanced back over to Kurt. He had his head back down. I frowned. Something didn't feel right.

"Alright, class." Mr. Keller said briskly as he closed the door the second the bell rang, locking it with a sharp _click_. "Trigonometric functions." He wrote the words on the board. "How many are there, Mr. Anderson?"

"Six." I replied, not completely focused on him. My eyes darted to the side once, checking on Kurt. His head was still down. The teacher followed my gaze. Oops.

"_Mr. _Hummel." Mr. Keller said pompously. "Am I boring you already?"

"N-no, sir." He replied, lifting his head a little bit.

"Then why don't you _lift _your head?" He snapped, turning back towards the board. "So, Hummel. Can you name the six functions?"

Kurt sighed, and sat up fully, his forehead creased in pain, his eyes squinting, and his mouth in a tight line. "Sine, Cosine, Tangent, Cosecant, Secant, and Cotangent." He recited before covering his eyes.

"So, to find the sine of a right triangle, you…" Mr. Keller launched into his lecture, but I wasn't paying any attention. Kurt had immediately put his head back into the crook of his arms. To say the least, that wasn't the best idea. Not in Mr. Keller's class. He would only get picked on more.

My hypothesis turned out to be true. "Hummel!" He snapped striding over to wrap his knuckles on Kurt's desk. He winced and flinched as he slowly lifted his head with a grimace.

"Yes, Mr. Keller?" He said, ever the polite one.

He only scoffed. "If you're so confident in this material that you can _sleep _in my class, why don't you go up to the board and find the missing angle measures and side lengths using the Law of Cosines?"

Kurt sighed softly but pulled himself out of his chair. I was worried. My arms lifted on instinct to help him. He didn't seem _at all _steady on his feet. But, he was a trooper. While his hand gripped the desk so tight his knuckles were white, he squared he shoulders and made his way up to the board.

He shakily lifted the piece of chalk, surveying the problem. As he was writing, I kept a cautious eye on him. I was worried something was going to go wrong.

Well, I was right. He started to sway dangerously on his feet just as he was writing the last numbers. I jumped out of my seat, catching him in my arms before he could hit the ground. I slowly lowered him down until we rested against the wall under the chalkboard. "Kurt, are you alright?"

He had his head in his hands and his knees drawn up to his chest. His breathing was shallow and he was curled into himself like he was being stabbed in the gut.

"Kurt!" I demanded gently. I knelt in front of him, resting my hands on his shoulders. "Come on, breathe." I prompted.

The rest of the class just stared on, frozen, as he started to speak. "My… my head." He ground out. He said something more, but I couldn't tell what it was because the words were muffled by his arms.

Mr. Keller looked down at Kurt with something akin to… sympathy? That didn't make sense _at all_. Mr. Keller was the most heartless person I've ever met. His soul was like a black hole of _death. _If he even had one.

My thoughts were snapped back to the present when Kurt let out a small whimper and a shuddering breath. "Take him to the nurse." Mr. Keller said softly. "You're both excused for the rest of class."

I just looked up at him in shock. Who was this man and what did he do with our devil spawn of a math teacher? "Go!" he snapped. Ah, there he was.

Kurt struggled to get his feet under him. "Can you—?" I started to ask.

"Yes, I'm fine." He insisted, but he didn't refuse my arm when I offered it to him for support. I hoped he didn't notice how my breath hitched when he wrapped his arm around my neck. I clasped his hand in mine (for support only, I told myself), and helped him walk unsteadily through the classroom and towards the door. All eyes were still trained on us.

We were almost to the door when Kurt's foot caught on somebody's backpack. He stumbled, sucking in a sharp breath. I caught him, hugging him to my chest. "Alright, screw this," I whispered. "Hold on," I said louder as I swept him up into my arms, bridal style, and cradled him to my chest.

His breaths were quick and panicky for a second before he looked up at me. His eyes weren't even all the way opened, just barely squinting through the light, but our eyes met and he calmed. I exited the classroom, away from prying eyes.

The door shut quietly behind me, and I could hear Mr. Keller attempt to restart his lesson. I looked down at Kurt as I started walking. "What the hell, Kurt?" I asked gently with a chuckle.

He groaned. "Don't make fun of me. And I _don't_ need to be carried." He insisted, yet at the same time he wound his arm around my neck and snuggled his head into the crook of my shoulder.

I just held him closer. "Says the one who collapsed after standing for a full sixty seconds." I retorted, as I kicked open the door to the nurse's office.

"Oh my!" She gasped when she took in the scene.

"I'm back," Kurt said meekly.

"I'm so sorry, honey. If only we'd had your medication…" She fretted, wringing her hands as he bustled around, setting up and little bed for him in the back room.

"Medication?" I asked Kurt in a whisper.

"Yeah," He admitted with a sigh. "For migraines. This isn't the first time."

I nodded as I set him down on the bed, drawing my arms out slowly, secretly reveling in the short time I had left before we were parted once again.

* * *

_-:-Kurt-:-_

Great. Just great.

I thought back to the horrible incident that had just occurred to me as I responded mindlessly to the nurse. Sure, collapsing in front of the entire class was _humiliating _and I never want to have to go through that again. And yeah, the whole eyes-that-suck-at-being-eyes thing isn't all that excellent either. Not to mention what Blaine must think. The worst part was the pity.

I could see it the minute I went down, Mr. Keller's eyes just flooded with it. Of course, I knew all the teachers had been informed. But it's not6 like I enjoy having my life story tossed around like it was nothing. Sure, it was, but still.

_Okay, _I told myself. _Enough. Focus. _I pulled my thoughts out into the real world. It wouldn't do me any good to dwell on things I could never change.

"…as soon as possible, okay?" The nurse said, shooting me a small smile.

I looked at Blaine, who was still here, giving me a hesitant smile. I pleaded for help with my eyes. He only chuckled. "I'm sorry, what?" I asked.

She laughed. "You need to bring in a new bottle of your prescription as soon as possible, so another incident like this doesn't happen again, alright?"

I sighed. "Yeah, okay." I added that onto my list of things to do. I looked around the room slowly, my eyes still twitching sporadically, though not as intensely annoying as last time. Yeah, this was more along the lines of Chinese water torture. Just as you thought it was over…

Anyways, my eyes settled on the clock. _Hmm, 3:45… _My head mused. It took a second to process. I stared at the blinking red numbers for a few more seconds.

"Oh my god!" I yelled as I jumped up. 3:45! I only had forty five minutes to get home, clean the house, and get started on dinner. "Crap, crap, crap!" I muttered as I looked around me wildly.

"Kurt! Kurt, what the hell? Calm down!" Blaine exclaimed, coming over to me and pushing me gently back onto the bed.

"No!" I insisted. "I'm late! I have to go! Thanks so much!" I directed the last part to the nurse as I got out of the bed. My legs wobbled a bit underneath me, but for the most part I remained steady.

I grabbed my things, glancing over my shoulder just as I opened the door. "You too, Blaine." I whispered, smiling softly.

* * *

The drive took longer than I had anticipated. Damned traffic! Plus I still had to stop by the pharmacy and pick up my pills or I would never get around to it.

Speaking of that, I was in the wrong lane. I muttered a few choice words as I switched lanes at the last second. I growled deep in my throat as the jackass behind me honked. "Deal with it!" I said to myself.

I turned into the pharmacy and headed towards the drive-thru. Oh god, not a line… I groaned and dropped my head back on the seat. Just what I needed, this is.

Then I realized something else. Well, hell! This medication isn't going to be _free_, do I have any cash on me? I dug through my wallet, pulling out the bills I had earned from doing odd jobs around town last month. I sighed.

I pulled up to the window. "Kurt Hummel." I said. We proceeded to go through the normal ritual of prescription exchange ("Would that be all?" "Yes, ma'am." "Sign here, please. Thank you very much!" "No problem.") and I headed home, my heart beating just a little bit faster than usual.

I pulled into the driveway and through the car into park. I glanced at the clock on the dash right before the light faded. _4:45._

"Shit," I whimpered, hurrying into the house. My hands shook as I turned the key in the lock and threw open the door. I listened quietly for any sounds of movement.

Silence.

I breathed out a sigh of relief. Good. He wasn't home yet.

I walked into the kitchen, setting my keys and prescription down on the counter and dropping my backpack to the floor with a heavy _thud._ Lugging that 50-pound thing around can't be good for my ribs.

A throat cleared from behind me.

I spun around. "Dad."

* * *

**(A/N): Cliffhanger! WHAT IS THIS? **

**Love? Hate? Questions? Comments? Let me know in a review! :D**

**First off: I'm sorry if I butchered the French language. Blame Google translate, not me! I promise it's not intentional! But if there are any major mistakes, then I could fix them if you let me know.**

**Q: **_**Who knows about Kurt's colorblindness?**_

**A: Most people. His dad does, but he refuses to recognize it. He wants to both make Kurt's life as miserable as possible by playing with it, yet at the same time he thinks that if he ignores it it'll go away. So yeah. :/ Mercedes knows, too. The guys at Dalton (excluding teachers) don't. Sorry for those of you who were confused!**

**Yeah, so a lot went down this chapter. I also focused a lot (mostly all of it) on the colorblindness part of it, because I feel that it's partially been pushed aside since it was originally introduced in the prologue. I have to try to balance the two plotline-type things my head canon has going for me.**

**Alright, I'm done rambling! Bye!**

**~DFTBA and Best Wishes!**


	6. All I Need

**(A/N): HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALY! :D**

**This chapter is my sort-of present to Aly (**_**AlyDuartsGleek)**_** to celebrate her being born. The world would be many times less awesome without her.**

**I hope you enjoy this beast of a chapter. it's mightly long... longer than my last chapter of DW. Over 5000 words! XD**

**Please note: I cannot yet say that I am upping my update schedule to twice per week. Finals are looming right around the corner, so it's in no way possible. Maybe when summer comes around? :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or it would never end. I also don't own all the song snippets I used. (I'll mention them at the bottom).**

* * *

**Chapter 6:**

**All I Need**

_A throat cleared from behind me._

_I spun around. "Dad."_

* * *

My breaths hitched painfully in my chest and my heartbeat turned suddenly erratic. My thoughts were nothing but a scrambled mess of words and thoughts and phrases and fears and worries all tainted and aided by the adrenaline pumping through my bloodstream.

"Where have you been?" He growled as he slowly took a single step towards me.

I countered with a step back. "I-I-I…" I stuttered. My mouth refused to work. Oh god, my brain couldn't even function right now. My fear and despair peaked when I could smell the alcohol rolling off of his breaths.

"_Answer me_!" He yelled, surging towards me and shoving me against the door to the hallway closet.

I gasped in pain and fear. My ribs screamed in protest and the door handle bit into the small of my back. I struggled to get my breath so I could answer, but he was pressing on my ribs and the searing, jabbing pain was constant and I couldn't focus long enough to even remember what words were.

"God damn it, you little faggot!" He roared, pulling me back and slamming me back again. My head bounced off the door, scrambling my thoughts further. _Come on, Kurt, come on, you can do this! TALK!_

"I g-got caught up at s-school." I managed to get out through short bursts of air.

"You're lying! Tell me the truth!" Burt pressed his entire body against me, pinning me down completely and taking away any chance I had of movement.

"I got s-sick!" I persisted, fighting off the overwhelming haze of panic that his proximity brought on.

He continued to growl and press for more. What did he want me to tell him? I can't tell him much more than I already have!

"_Liar!" _He yelled, tightening his grip on my arms and rattling me like a dog with its toy. His eyes bore into mine, simmering with a cold, hard fire.

"My eyes started acting up and they were out of my medication!" I yelled. He stopped instantly, but I hardly noticed. "It all gave me an absolutely _unbearable _headache and I collapsed in math class! Is that what you wanted to hear? Huh? That I'm not the perfect, _straight_ son without problems that you can showcase and be proud of?" My voice was going hoarse and my throat was starting to close up from tears. But I continued yelling. I ripped my aching arms from his vise-like grip. "Well, it's the truth! That's what happened! And _then _had I had to drive through the pharmacy to pick up my meds and pay with _my own god damned money _because I have a deadbeat father who refuses to do a single thing that will in any way benefit me! You know what?" My voice dropped dangerously low, coming out in an almost feral growl as I shoved him roughly away from me, creating a sizable gap between us. "You can clean your own fucking house, and make your own _fucking _dinner—Hell, you could eat shit for all I care!—because I could not possibly care _less _about you."

My breathing was harsh, labored, and painful as I snatched up my dance bag that was a few feet away and made my way to the door. I glanced back just as I was about to turn the corner.

He was standing stock still, head angled down towards the floor. I could see his shoulders rising from deep, exaggerated breaths. His fists were clenched and I could almost _see _the rage flood throughout his system.

"You fucking ungrateful son of a _bitch_!" He bellowed, barreling out of the kitchen and towards me. I held back my scream of fright as I rushed out of the house. I risked a glance back as my hand rested on the cool metal of the handle.

A thick arm wrapped around my waist and yanked me from the door. I struggled with all my might, making desperate little squeaks in effort.

I dropped to the floor roughly, and wasted no time in scrambling back up and racing once again for the door, my only chance of safety. I had just barely turned the handle when I was yanked back again. The door opened a small fraction.

"_NO!" _I yelled, lashing out with my legs as he dragged my down the hall by my ankle. My other leg caught him square in the groin, and he doubled over with a breathy moan of pain.

I shot out of there like a bat out of hell. I opened and closed the door behind me, just as I heard his enraged shouts filling the silence in the house. I jumped into my car, almost forgetting to shut the door as I jammed the key into the ignition.

My thoughts went on a rampage as the door flew open. _He's coming after me, oh god oh god oh god oh god GO Kurt, go go go go! _I managed to get away just as he was within five feet of my car. He lunged for me at the last second, his fingers slipping from the smooth metal of my car. The tires screeched down the street as I fishtailed around the corner, speeding away at the speed of my racing heart.

* * *

Needless to say, I arrived at dance just the slightest bit early.

And by _'the slightest bit early' _I meant about half an hour. I let myself into the studio and decided to take advantage of this much needed time. I dropped my bag in my corner and leaned heavily against the wall. I let out a slow, shaky breath as I slid down until I reached the floor.

My entire frame was trembling and my thoughts were rampant. I didn't know what to think.

I could take pride in myself for finally standing up to the bastard. It's not like he didn't deserve it. And man, did I prove myself. I _was _a man; I _could _stand up for myself. I wasn't a _complete _waste of space because hey, I at least had a good set of pipes on me.

On the other hand, I'm utterly and completely terrified. There's no way in hell I'm getting out of this without some kind of detriment. Burt is going to get back at me. He wasn't one to be undermined like that. Oh god, Iwas going to _pay._

Well, I did not need to think about that, not now. I needed to focus on calming myself down. I glanced at my watch. I still had about 20 minutes left until people started showing up. People that included Blaine. So I needed to get this shaking under control.

By the time the first small group of my team had arrived, my hands had stopped shaking (for the most part) and were draped cautiously, protectively, across my ribcage. My breathing had returned to normal (for the most part), and my racing thoughts had stilled (again, for the most part). The bruises that had formed were sufficiently covered and unnoticeable. No one would be able to tell a thing; just the way I wanted it. I was sitting, already dressed, in my corner, softly humming to myself.

My eyes were closed, my posture relaxed. I was calm, cool collected. Just like the Kurt everyone knew.

"Kurt?" I heard. I opened my eyes slowly, letting a small smile grace my lips. Blaine.

"Hey, you." I said, meeting his eyes. "Thanks again for… everything earlier."

He plopped down next to me, nudging me a bit with his elbow. "No problem. What are friends for?"

I just smirked dryly at him. Our little 'moment' was broken when the Hawk walked in and immediately started shrieking out orders. I shot Blaine an apologetic look as I joined the rest of the class in our stretches, putting all my focus into covering up the pained expression on my face.

This was going to be a lot more difficult than I thought. If this is what stretching felt like… I couldn't wait to see how I felt doing our most rigorous of routines.

* * *

Poor Kurt.

He's had such a long day, and here they are, practicing their fastest (most awe inspiring) routine and I can see the pain Kurt is trying to hide in his face.

As soon as the Hawk would yell for them to stop, Kurt would turn stock still and breathe through his teeth. His partner, Arianna, would give him these looks, but he only shook his head.

"Again!" She would bark. And off they would go.

Once they had gotten it up to her standards, she said, "Okay, we need to create one last routine and we're set for our competition." She looked around the room at everyone. "I have a special idea for this one."

She stood there with her usual self-satisfied smirk. "Well?" one of the girls asked.

Her smirk only grew, and then she launched into her explanation. "What is the same with every dance team that will be competing?"

Tristan, one of the other guy dancers, looked at her curiously. "Uh… dancing?" He suggested, going for the simplest approach.

"Yes!" She snapped her finger and pointed at him. "And how does a specific dance team be singled out as the winner?"

"They dance the best?"

"They work together?"

"They have the best songs?"

"They stand out," Kurt said. "They do something different; take a risk that takes them out of the box."

The Hawk gave him an appraising stare. "Yes." She finally said, almost sounding surprised, before jumping back into her speech. "That's what we need to do. We need to break out of the box and do something that'll enhance our performance. I think we should sing."

There was relative silence. Then:

"Sing? How can we sing _and_ dance at the same time?"

"Singing? No, I can't sing!"

"We joined this to _dance, _what's with this singing business?"

"Is that even allowed?"

"Yes," The Hawk answered only the last question. "And it doesn't matter if all of you can't sing. We only need one, maybe two people who can. It doesn't even have to be you; it could be Blaine—" I raised my eyebrows in shock, but she didn't seem to notice and continued. "—we could hire someone, or it _could_ be one of you. All I know is that, traditionally, dance groups use instrumental tracks. They say they do this so the words won't distract from their movements and it's also easier to avoid falling into the interpretive dance trap."

She paused, letting her words sink in for a minute. Kurt looked interested with one of his eyebrows slightly raised as he sat gingerly against the wall, his arms crossed tenderly across his chest.

"But _I_ think," She said dramatically, "that words are _emotion. That _is our edge."

The room was stunned into silence as we were left to our thoughts.

Well, it does make sense. Communication is a huge part of emotional expression in humans. The more emotion you can portray, the more moving and personal the performance will feel. That's what a performance should be, something that made you actually feel something. And that would be pretty impressive, if not admired solely for the risk.

I looked over at Kurt to se if I could read his reaction from his face. He mostly looked thoughtful; his eyes a little bit unfocused but clearly still present, his head cocked to the side a little bit. His posture was relaxed, though still a bit stiff at the same time. His hair glimmered in the evening sunlight streaming through the window. At that moment, he looked absolutely _gorgeous._

The Hawk soon called us back to attention. "Now the only problem is finding us a song. And with that comes a singer." She looked around the room, searching for volunteers. No one moved.

"Fine." She snapped. "Get in a line." She paused for a moment, considering. "You too, curly."

My eyebrows shot up at the nickname. Me? I slowly stood up from my place in front of the piano and made my way to stand between Kurt and Arianna at the end of the line.

She started at the opposite end, pointing to Tristan. "Sing." She ordered.

He floundered for a second, before dashing over to his bag, pulling out an iPod, and looking to her with a questioning glace. She nodded in answer and he swiftly plugged it in. He scrolled through his songs for a minute before finally settling on one.

He took a deep breath before launching into the lyrics over a soft, tinkling piano backing.

_If you were the rain, where would you fall?_

_Would be on those who have lost it all?_

_Or would you fall on the ones being kissed for the first time…_

_Or those like I, who in the rain are the most alive…_

He was good, I guess. I mean, at least he could follow the melody. But his voice wasn't anything special, as cruel and mean as that sounds. If I was giving points, I could say there was potentially potential. He just didn't really have the emotion that the Hawk was looking for. He was just singing for the purpose of singing.

Next person: Laura. She looked incredibly nervous, and fumbled with her iPod as she hooked it up. Just before she hit play, she said, "I apologize in advance. I'm horrible."

A more fast-paced piano and drum combo filled the room, and she began to sing.

_When you, when you forget your name_

_Then all faces all look the same_

_Meet me in the morning when you wake up_

_Meet me in the morning then you wake up_

I fought back the urge to cringe. She, well… she hadn't been lying. I don't think she could have carried a tune with an Olympic-sized swimming pool.

Thankfully, most of the singing was more along the lines of Tristan; good, but not good enough.

As we were nearing the end of Brielle's audition, I could see the Hawk getting exasperated. She had obviously been hoping for a star to just explode their talent all over this little group of 13.

Well, she shouldn't give up hope yet. There were still three people left; Arianna, me, and Kurt.

* * *

_-:-Kurt-:-_

Hmm. Another interesting twist on my day, I suppose. I can honestly say I didn't expect to be thrown back into my New Direction days and auditioning for solos.

Most of them were no good. Well, that's not to say they were horrible. Just not the awe-inspiring, overwhelming hunk of talent that the Hawk was hoping would fall out of the sky.

Well, she better prepare herself, because it was Arianna's turn. And if anyone in this room could sing us to a national championship, it would be her. She had one hell of a voice packed into her tiny little body. It was easy to underestimate her. People set their expectations low, and she shattered the hell out of them.

I gave her arm a squeeze of encouragement as she went up to the front of the room and chose her song. I smiled when I heard the opening bars. This was going to be good.

_I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house_

_That don't bother me_

_I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out_

The Hawk sat up straighter, casting her scrutinizing stare over my little Arianna. I held back a chuckle, but I couldn't stop my little proud smile from making its way to my face. Her voice was amazingly unique, with just a hint of country style to it. The song fit perfectly.

_I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while_

_Even though going on with you gone still upsets me_

_There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay_

_But that's not what gets me_

The little smile was then shocked from my face. The Hawk was _smiling _at her. And not her usual derisive sneer, but a true smile of appreciation and admiration. A sharp pang of jealously ripped through my chest.

_What hurts the most_

_Was being so close_

_And having so much to say_

_And watching you walk away_

_And never knowing what could have been_

_And not seeing that loving you_

_Is what I was trying to do_

The rest of the song went just as smoothly, her voice ringing out soulfully. The room erupted into applause and cheers and whoops for Arianna. Me included. I wouldn't let petty jealousy stop me from supporting my friend in all her awesomeness.

She got back in line, and I nudged her with my elbow and winked. She giggled back as the Hawk started to speak.

"Arianna…" She started. "That was adequate. I'll consider you for the position." Well, that's the best she's going to get, I guess. I looked to my other side to see Blaine fighting a smile, too. He stopped when he felt my eyes on him and winked.

I quickly turned my head away as a blush crept up my cheeks. _Okay, Kurt, what's going on? It's just a wink. Stop blushing like a lovesick schoolgirl. _I chastised myself.

I was broken out of my internal repercussions by a sharp yell of "Anderson!"

I looked over at him, holding back another schoolgirl-worthy sigh. He just looked so calm, so collected so _confidant. _Everything I wanted—no, everything I _needed _to be.

He chose a song quickly, so I was left with little time to wonder whether he was good or not. I mean, yeah, he's on the Warblers, but I guess you can never know for sure until you hear it for yourself.

With a roll of his shoulders, he started to sing.

_I saw you there_

_And looked you straight between the eyes_

_And said "I'm leaving,"_

_I don't care and I don't know if they were lies_

_But I don't need 'em_

I couldn't keep my jaw from dropping. It was _beautiful. _His voice was a rich tenor that filled the entire room, leaving everyone spell bound. And of course, the girls practically melted.

And that included Coach Hawkins. And me.

'_Cause standing still_

_Isn't easy_

_When the world's moving backwards, oh_

_The world's moving backwards_

_Yeah, so get your fill_

_Please believe me_

_That the world's moving backwards, oh_

_The world's moving backwards_

I searched his eyes for any sign of the underlying emotion for the song. But I could not determine one, or even two, distinct feelings in those sparkling gray eyes. I don't even think _he_ knew.

_So I say_

_So what if they're just stories_

_What if I need 'em?_

_So I pray_

_That you'll give me grace if you can hear me, oh_

_That you'll give me grace if you can hear_

The song went soft and tremulous for a second, before picking right back up into the chorus with a strength and passion that was hard to expect. He left you wanting more, leaning forwards unconsciously. He draws you in with that short burst of tenderness, before tossing it right back in your face. In the good kind of way, of course.

'_Cause standing still_

_Isn't easy_

_When the world's moving backwards, oh_

_The world's moving backwards_

_Yeah, so get your fill_

_Please believe me_

_That the world's moving backwards_

_The world's moving backwards_

I watched as his face contorted (still beautifully, I might add) with that unidentifiable mixture of emotions. I wondered if he knew. Not just the emotions, or his talent, but the way it affected people. The level of charisma he had.

_So I pray that you'll give me grace if you can hear me_

_That you'll give me grace if you can hear me_

_And I pray that you'll give us grace if you can hear me_

_You'll give us grace_

_You'll give us grace_

_You'll give us grace_

I shook my head in disbelief. His voice rose into a spectacular crescendo, the sound reverberating around the room. A smile lit up the Hawk's face. A true smile. _This _is what she was looking for: this moment, where everyone just held their breath in anticipation, wishing that the moment would sustain itself forever.

'_Cause standing still_

_Isn't easy_

_When the world's moving backwards, oh_

_The world's moving backwards_

_Yeah, so get your fill_

_Please believe me_

_That the world's moving backwards, oh_

_The world's moving backwards_

Blaine repeated the chorus one last time. I looked around the room, gauging everyone's reactions. Basically, the guys radiated jealousy and the girls were melted puddles of goo. I smirked a little to myself; they had no chance with him.

_The world's moving_

_The world's moving_

_The world's moving_

_The world's moving…_

The song faded away until the room was once again in silence before Blaine was rewarded with his well-deserved applause. The Hawk stood up, and managed to compliment him while still sounding like her normal, self-centered self. "I knew I hired you for more than your piano skills."

Blaine could only laugh good-naturedly, shaking his head. "Thanks, I guess." He sat back down, and I sent him a smile and a nod.

"You were…" I breathed. Then I stopped, because if I didn't he would be able to see the similarities between me and the rest of the girls in the room.

He just shrugged his shoulders with a smirk. "I guess I'm the lead of the Warblers for a reason."

I just shook my head with a snort. Of course. Lead Warbler. This just made our entire relationship—as _friends,_ I insisted to my brain—even more unreal. He had all of what any high school student could want, any friends, and he chose the one guy at the bottom of the food chain.

He nudged me and nodded towards the front of the room. "Good luck." He said.

Oh yeah. Shit. It was my turn.

I grabbed my iPod and stepped cautiously up to the front of the room. I breathed tentatively, sizing up how much pain this would cause me. I stared at the song I wanted to sing for a few seconds. I inhaled slowly and deeply. Did I have the breath support for this song?

Though it hurt a bit (okay, a lot), I really want to do this song. New Directions, a group of misfits in and of themselves, had shunned me for being '_too different'_, so I could never sing a song like this. Now was my chance.

This song meant so much to me. It's always been that song I turn to when I just need to get something out. Usually, it was aimed towards my father, all the missed opportunities as father and son. I was going to be perfect for him, and he would realize what I did and everything would be okay. He would hold me with love instead of malice. He would smile with laughter instead of sick pleasure.

And on that thought, I jumped into the song.

_I'm dying to catch my breath_

_Oh why don't I ever learn?_

_I've lost all my trust_

_Though I've surely tried to turn it around_

I could hear the room take in a breath as one. Even I was shocked at the otherworldly sounds I was making. The emotions in these words were like raw, open sores. Fresh and still hurting, scarring, never fading.

_Can you still see the heart of me?_

_All my agony fades away_

_When you hold me in your embrace_

That's why I'm doing this. That's my reason for existing; my father. As much as I think he is the most despicable creature now, he never used to be. He used to love me, care for me. Hold me. That's all I wanted. One hug. But to get that, I had to be perfect.

_Don't tear me down_

_For all I need_

_Make my heart a better place_

_Give me something I can believe_

_Don't tear me down_

_You've opened the door now, don't let it close_

It was on his suggestion I do this. I make myself perfect for him, he would love me again. It was nothing more than an "if-then" type thing. My voice shook a little bit on the note as my ribs ached, nothing but a painful form of motivation.

* * *

_-:-Blaine-:-_

I was speechless.

_I'm here on the edge again_

_I wish I could let it go_

_I know that I'm only one step away_

_From turning it around_

_Don't tear me down_

_For all I need_

_Make my heart a better place_

Kurt's voice was high and strong, yet quivering with suppressed emotion. _This _is what the Hawk was looking for; a performance that tugged on your heartstrings and make you want to know what caused this sort of pain, to compel you to do everything in your power to make it better.

_Can you still see the heart of me?_

_All my agony fades away_

_When you hold me in your embrace_

Our eyes met. Those crystals shimmered with unshed tears. All I wanted to do was jump out of my seat and do exactly what he needs. Hold him, hug him, care for him.

Love him.

But he didn't need a love interest, a boyfriend. He needed a support system, a shoulder to cry on. A friend.

Whatever he needed me to be, I would be. No matter which option I preferred personally.

_Don't tear me down_

_For all I need_

_Make my heart a better place_

_Give me something I can believe_

I looked around the room. Everyone's faces were nothing less than shell-shocked. I'm sure I looked the same, if not more so. Even the Hawk's stony exterior began to crack as she watched the miraculous display in front of us.

_Don't tear it down, what's left of me_

_Make my heart a better place_

_I tried so many times, but nothing was real_

_Make it fade away, don't break me down_

_I want to believe that this is for real_

_Save me from my fear_

_Don't tear me down_

These notes… I could not get over these notes that Kurt was hitting. I doubted any girl in this room could hit them, let alone any _guy._ I mean, can you say _countertenor? _The simplest, easiest aspect of this performance, the very top layer, was impressive by itself. The true greatness and jaw-dropping amazingness is all from the fact that Kurt has more than just that one layer. So much more.

_Don't tear me down_

_For all I need_

_Make my heart a better place_

The song went deliciously soft for a few lines, hardly anything more than Kurt's sweet voice filling the awed silence of the studio. The words reverberated in the stillness, hardly having time to be admired before it launched back into its original rock beat. But nothing was lost, oh no. The intensity only built. You could see it in Kurt's eyes.

_Don't tear me down_

_For all I need_

_Make my heart a better place_

_Give me something I can believe_

_Don't tear it down, what's left of me_

_Make my heart a better place_

_Make my heart a better place_

Kurt held the last note with a gentle, quivering vibrato. His eyes dropped down to his hands, which were shaking. He clenched them into fists and waited, waited, waited for someone to say something, anything.

But what could we possibly say to that? "It was amazing" isn't nearly strong enough. Nor was breathtaking, awe-inspiring, magnificent, otherworldly, angelic… there were simply no words to describe the phenomena we were all just lucky enough to witness.

* * *

_-:-Kurt-:-_

I tried to keep my breathing as even as possible after the song had finished, but in all honesty I felt like I had just run a marathon. MY lungs ached like they've been deprived of oxygen for years and I would rather have my ribcage completely removed then suffer through this pain any longer.

But then it hit me; everything was silent.

I looked down to my hands, which had started to tremble. Oh god, I must have been horrible. What was I thinking, taking on this song? I don't even know what's going to happen now…

I risked a glance up at them, trying to read the expressions on their faces, but I couldn't.

Then, en masse they all flew up from their chairs and cheered, screamed, whistled. A few were wiping tears from their eyes. All of the dance team stood there, jumping up and down and exclaiming how I had made them cry or that they could 'feel my pain' and all these things, but I didn't care about them, or what they thought.

I only cared about the opinion of one person.

Our eyes met. I walked over nervously, hardly daring to blink. "Kurt," Blaine breathed, pulling me into a gentle hug, holding me close. My throat started to constrict with tears.

_This _is what I wanted, what I needed. Someone to hold me, to whisper sweet nothings in my ear as I cried, to be there for me when I just needed someone to lean on.

A few tears escaped, trailing traitorously down my cheeks. I wiped them away quickly, hoping Blaine wouldn't notice. "Kurt," he said again, looking at me with wide eyes and shaking his head unbelievably. "That was… I don't even have _words _for whatever the hell you just did. But that's not the point, Kurt." He added that last part in a whisper.

"What?" I felt my momentary peace shatter. What did he mean by that?

Blaine took a deep, calming breath. "We're friends, right?" I nodded. "And friends tell each other… things." He said awkwardly.

I pulled back completely from his arms. "Yes?" I wasn't sure where he was going with this, but the direction worried me. This was not something I was ready to talk about. People wouldn't understand; my intentions would be misconstrued.

"Is something wrong, Kurt?" he asked softly, keeping his hands resting gently on my arms. I searched his face for any signs of ulterior motives, malice, anything that would tell me he didn't actually care. But all I saw was compassion. His eyebrows were creased with worry, causing lines to form on his perfect forehead. Beneath those eyebrows rested those eyes. If only I knew what color they were, I could give you the fitting metaphor for what I'm drowning in. Whatever it was, I'm sure it was as beautiful as the rest of him, gray or not.

"No, of course not." I lied smoothly, giving him a cautious smile. "Why would you think that?"

"Those emotions were real. I could tell from your eyes. They're very expressive, like windows to the soul…" he rambled as he moved one of his hands to adjust a piece of my hair. I blushed beet red at the intimate action, clearing my throat awkwardly. Why did my body just decide—without my permission, I might add—to have these sorts of reactions to someone I just met? Was I really _this _desperate for love?

Blaine continued. "You know… you know you can tell me anything, Kurt. _Anything._ I'm here whenever you need me; anytime, any day, anywhere. Just… okay?"

I nodded, fighting back another onslaught of tears. Stupid emotions.

He tugged me gently to his chest again, and I nuzzled my head into his shoulder.

I felt something flutter deep in my belly, something I couldn't quite place. My thoughts were still a jumble of emotions and memories and hopes and Blaine. Everything was confusing and nothing made sense.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, and Blaine's arms held me closer. And the pieces started to fall into place.

The blushing, the giddiness, the staring, the butterflies…

I'm falling for Blaine Anderson.

* * *

**(A/N): So, Aly. I hope you liked this, because I wrote it all at night. But I'm still pretty proud of it! **

**Songs:**

_Sung by Tristan: _**Cause of Pain by Bloom**

_Sung by Laura: _**Bend & Break by Keane**

_Sung by Arianna: _**What hurts the Most by Rascal Flatts**

_Sung by Blaine: _**Moving Backwards by Ben Rector**

_Sung by Kurt: _**All I Need by Within Temptation**

**Phew. Some serious things went down in this chapter. And some development! Kurtsie has some newfound feelings for our little Blainers. ;)**

**Okay, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Because when I feel good about a chapter I usually start to worry after it's posted because I lose confidence in myself and think that maybe it wasn't as good as I thought and yeah rambling.**

**Until Next Time!**

**~DFTBA and Best Wishes!**


	7. Dinner?

**(A/N): OMGLEE HEY GUYS! Guess what, I'm still alive, I promise!**

**I shouldn't make excuses, I know, but you do deserve an explanation. It comes in the form of one word: Finals. Nuff said. But hey! I'm on summer vacation now and I have no friends, so I have all the time in the world to write!**

**SPEAKING OF! I finally started that collab with **_**AlyDuartsGleek**_**! It's posted on her profile, and it's called 'Unexpected Guests', though the title is subject to change at the moment. I would love it if you would check it out! (Warning: it **_**is **_**a very cracky crack fic)**

**ANYWAYS! Onwards with the story. It was supposed to be Klainey goodness, but Kurt had other plans. :/**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Despite my absence, I did not come across the ownership of Glee.**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Dinner?**

_I took a deep, shuddering breath, and Blaine's arms held me closer. And the pieces started to fall into place._

_The blushing, the giddiness, the staring, the butterflies…_

_I'm falling for Blaine Anderson._

* * *

_-:-Kurt-:-_

I pulled slowly out of Blaine's grasp.

What?

My thoughts scrambled as they tried to find the origin of this affection. I haven't even known this beautiful being long enough to have feelings for him. How was this possible? How was I, one who has never really experienced a true, deep love, falling for someone , and so quickly at that?

I must have shown the confusion on my face, because Blaine smiled and squeezed my arms gently. "Penny for your thoughts."

I blinked a few times, opening my mouth slowly as I tried to piece together an answer. Luckily, I was saved by the obnoxious, booming voice of the Hawk calling us into formation.

I just gave Blaine a small half-smile and a shrug as I turned away and rejoined the group.

* * *

_Click!_

I stumbled to a stop.

"Alright guys, that's it for today. Stick around for the last fifteen minutes and work on individual or small-group parts." The Hawk announced as she wrapped up the chord of the radio.

I wrapped an arm tightly around my ribs, trying to slow my breathing. Each pant sent sharp spikes of agony through my abdomen, causing me to gasp and the whole cycle to repeat and intensify.

I was starting to get dizzy again. That last number had been _brutal. _I swear I'd almost blacked out. I stumbled a step as I tried to regain my bearings.

Coach looked over her shoulder at me. "Not you, Hummel. You look like you're about to faint. Sit."

I backed up until my back hit the wall and slowly slid down I attempted to hold my breath as my ribs were set on fire. I breathed out slowly, hoping to extinguish it.

"Kurt, are you—?" Blaine started to ask, but he was cut off by the Hawk.

"Hummel!" She barked, crouching down in front of me. "What's your problem?"

I tried to take in a breath to answer, but all that came out was a pathetic sort of whimper.

She scoffed as she stood back up. "Are you really _that _out of shape? You have to work on this, Hummel. How are you supposed to sing _and _dance if the dance alone is too much for you to handle?" She stalked away, calling over her shoulder, "Oh, and didn't I tell you to lose a few?"

I turned my head away, not wanting Blaine to see my face burning in shame. She noticed, too. She pointed it out, and now the entire room was looking at me. Oh god, I could read the disgust in their features as they took in my stomach rolls, my double chin, my flabby arms and legs. I just wanted to curl into a ball and disappear.

But I was working on it. I was dieting and working out. I weighed myself every single day and charted my weight. I was doing everything right. It was working, I just knew it. It had to. It was just taking longer than I was expecting, that's all.

It all boils down to one thing: I would do _anything _to be perfect.

* * *

_-:-Blaine-:-_

Kurt looked horrible.

Of course, I would never say this to his face. Not under normal circumstances by any means, but especially not now. Not right after he has been insulted by his coach in front of everyone.

But it doesn't change the face that he looks horrible.

And not in the way that the Hawk was implying. No, he was not in any way fat or overweight or even "chubby". He was entirely too skinny and thin and should probably be gaining weight, not losing it.

Kurt also looked… sickly. Not _too _noticeably, but enough. The bags under his eyes, the pale, colorless tone of his cheeks, and the general skeletal frame of his body were hints. His breathing also worried me; it sounded sharp and labored, like each inhale was painful. It only confirmed my suspicions that he had injured his ribs somehow.

He shouldn't have come today, not after the day he's had, and especially not with injured ribs. I should have taken him home the second I saw him. What he needs is a nice, good meal and some sleep. And maybe an ice pack or something.

I walked up to him. "Want to get out of here?"

He looked up at me, quickly schooling his features to hide the last remnants of pain that lingered. "A-are you sure I can just… leave?"

"You're not doing anything at the moment, are you?" I questioned, smiling playfully. "And class is over in a few minutes anyways."

His upper lip twitched into an almost-smile. "Okay, yeah. Sure."

"Great!" I said, trying to rein in my enthusiasm just a little bit more. I didn't want to come across as too eager.

Kurt stood up and grabbed his dance bag, gesturing awkwardly to the changing room. "I-if you don't mind…"

"No!"I said quickly, "No, no, you're good."

He smiled awkwardly and disappeared around the corner. I settled my back against the wall to wait. Huh, maybe I should have figured out where I was taking him first. That might've been smart. Okay, this shouldn't be too hard; there's a nice little diner not too far from here. I'll take him there, make sure he gets some food in him, and then make sure he gets home, safe and sound.

I didn't wait too much longer when Kurt reappeared, dance bag in hand and looking as impeccable as ever. He was dressed simply in dark skinny jeans and converse, topped off with a simple deep blue button down that brought out the color of his eyes. His chestnut locks were gently tousled, though stylishly so. Yeah, he looked… _very _attractive.

He smiled cautiously at me and titled his head. "Earth to Blaine?"

I shook my head, ridding it of those sorts of thoughts. _Undapper, Blaine! Keep it together! _I thought viciously as I smiled kindly back at him. "Sorry. So, shall we?" I said pompously, holding my arm out to him.

He giggled as we linked arms, his nose scrunching adorably. "And where, exactly, are you taking me, fine sir?" He questioned, playing along.

"Out to dinner, my fair friend." I said, holding the door open with a flourish.

His eyes widened a little bit, and he stopped in his tracks. "T-to eat?"

"Yeah," I answered slowly. That was a weird reaction. I pressed for more. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head quickly. A little too quickly. "No, I-I'm just… n-not hungry."

My eyebrow raised as his stomach grumbled loudly. "Yeah, right. Get in the car."

* * *

_-:-Kurt-:-_

Those three words echoed in my head. They bounced around, repeating incessantly, taunting me. _Out to dinner… Out to dinner…_

I stopped walking. No. No no no no no no. I can't eat in front of him! I can't eat _period. _I already ate my allotted calories for the day. Besides, there's no way _Blaine _is going to watch me eat. I'll look like a freaking pig!

"T-to eat?" I asked dumbly, just hoping I heard him wrong, or that his idea of "out to dinner" was something completely different from mine and I wouldn't have to worry.

"Yeah," He said, looking at me with a suspicious look on his face. Damn! I didn't want him digging into this. He already thought something was up after my song. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I said quickly and maybe a little too loudly to be natural. "I-I'm just… not hungry." I lied. I held back a wince as my stomach growled in denial, taking any chance for food as an opportunity to speak up.

"Yeah, right. Get in the car." He said, waving his hand as he headed towards a car parked in the corner of the lot.

I followed dumbly after him, trying to reassemble my thoughts. "M-my car…"

He glanced over his shoulder with a heart-melting smile. "Follow me, I know a place."

I sighed, my thoughts once again on a rampage. Okay, okay. I could do this. I could be normal. I could get through. After all, Blaine was going to be there. He _invited _me. He wanted to do this. And how could I say no to that?

I clambered into my Navigator and pulled out after Blaine. I used the short drive to collect the last remnants of any potentially harmful thoughts and tucked them away, tossing up the walls one by one in a practiced ritual. By the time I reached the car park, I had convince myself that this could at least be kind of fun. Nothing could go wrong.

Right?

* * *

_-:-Blaine-:-_

I got out of my car slowly, watching as Kurt drove by, his face expressionless, as he parked a few spaces down. I took a few steps and waited until I heard his car door shut. I sped up my stride, coming up alongside him. "This place is the best; really cozy, never too busy, and the food is _amazing._" I gushed playfully. I was hoping for a laugh, but I could only elicit a light chuckle.

We stepped through the door and paused, surveying the scene. "I guess I take back the 'never too busy' part." I said sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck.

Kurt gave me a small smile and a shrug. "It's fine. I don't mind a little wait." I smiled back at him, and he blushed and looked away.

I didn't really understand, but I blushed too, clearing my throat as I turned my attention towards the people waiting around us.

_Hmm… they look familiar. _I thought nonchalantly as my gaze rested on two boys standing a few feet away. My eyes drifted over them, before snapping back once the realization hit.

"Nick? Jeff?" I said, shaking my head. The two boys turned around, one short brunette and a taller, lanky blonde. They were holding hands, but let go as they laughed and walked over to us.

"Blainey!" Nick said playfully. "Whatever are you doing here?" I returned with some sort of nonchalant comment, but I felt Kurt shift uncomfortably behind me. Oh, yeah. My eyes darted towards him once. Jeff noticed and followed my gaze, his friendly, surprised smile morphing into a sly smirk.

"Hey Blainey, who's that you've got with you?"

Nick cut off mid-sentence and looked at Kurt, a similar expression settling on his face. "Yeah, Blainey, who's your friend?" He nudged my side teasingly.

I looked back at Kurt, meeting his eyes fleetingly with an apologetic look before taking a few steps back to where he was. "Uh, you guys should know Kurt. He goes to Dalton." I said lamely.

Jeff's smirk widened. "Oh, hey, Hummel!" he said, "Didn't recognize you out of the uniform." His eyes surveyed Kurt's hair. "You should do your hair like that more often. It's hot."

Kurt's eyes widened almost comically, his cheeks painted a rosy pink. He wrung his hands together, look down and up and anywhere but at Jeff as he stuttered, "U-uh, thanks?"

"Anytime." He winked. Nick gaped as elbowed him sharply in the ribs, causing his laugh to turn in a cough of pain. "Aw, Nickie, I was joking…"

Nick smiled sweetly. "I know."

I just shook my head. They were like an old married couple, I swear. "So, you guys are here on a date, I suppose?" I asked, just for the sake of changing the subject. Kurt's eyes filled with gratefulness as we stepped forward in the queue.

"Yeah, I guess." Nick said while Jeff shrugged. "Hey, why don't you two join us? We could make it a double date!"

"No," I said quickly. "I-It's not a date." I insisted. "We'll join you, "I added quickly, "But it's not a date."

I looked back at Kurt, who gave me a really awkward smile. I tried hard to smile back as non-awkwardly as possible, but there was no avoiding the all encompassing atmosphere of _awkward _in that situation.

We had just made it to the front of the line when Kurt let out a little gasp. Out of nowhere, he shoved roughly between Jeff and I, making us stumble. Jeff let out a grunt of surprise and I may or may not have made the most undignified squeak I'd ever not admit to.

It all happened so fast; I don't even know how Kurt had processed it and was able to react. I hadn't even heard the waitresses little surprised "Whoa!" when her heel slid on the slightly wet tile. But Kurt had, and he caught her from the back against his chest, reaching one arm around to steady the tray of drinks she had been carrying. Only one of the five toppled over the edge, the plastic bouncing and rolling away as its contents spread across the floor.

The petite waitress flicked her bangs out of her eyes with a light huff. She straightened herself up, taking in a deep breath as she tried to remain dignified. "Thank you." She said to Kurt calmly, but her cheeks were flaming red, and she was fighting back a smile.

"No problem," Kurt said, giving her a charming smile. I held back a chuckle as the poor girl practically melted beneath the power of his charm. I know I did. Can we say 'knight in shining armor'?

"Really, though, you saved me a—" The girl started, but was cut off by Kurt.

"Watch it!" he warned as another waitress headed towards them. She realized a bit too late as her heel landed squarely on one of the displaced ice cubes. She went down faster than my eyes could follow, but somehow Kurt was there, her tray of food on one arm, the other tucked steadily around her waist.

This time I couldn't hold back my laugh. The girl just had the most love-struck look on her face. Not to mention that Kurt was basically a freaking _ninja. _I simply could not believe it. Maybe I was dreaming. It had been a long day.

But no, this was reality. Kurt really was that epic. He now had two girls running the official Kurt Hummel Fan Club. And he was modest as ever ("No, no, it's really no big deal." "It's my fault, I didn't warn you soon enough.").

I shook my head as the chaos finally died down and we got our seats. Nick chuckled as his pulled out a menu. "Nice job, Kurt, didn't know you had it in you."

Kurt smiled lightly, chuckling. It was a beautiful sound, it really was. It was very… tinkling, and melodic, like a piano. Or singsong-y, like a bird. When I heard it I just couldn't help but smile. And now was no exception.

I laughed dryly to myself. Man, I was whipped.

* * *

"So, Kurt, we don't really know you that well." Jeff said bluntly, but with a wide, dopey smile.

Kurt looked down with a chuckle. "Oh, I'm nothing special."

I tried, I really did. I tried to hold back my disbelieving snort, but I couldn't. All eyes turned to me, and I laughed and shook my head. I turned my head towards Kurt. "Really? You really think that?"

I didn't notice the little smirks exchanged by our friends as Kurt raised one delicate eyebrow and returned lightly with "Hummels don't lie, Anderson."

I leaned closer to him, retorting with an eyebrow raise of my own. "Seriously? Kurt, I could go on and on about the special things about you! And that's _not _including whatever the hell you did a few minutes ago!" I exclaimed. Apparently, my mouth had lost its filter. I blushed as I realized what I had said and stopped myself before any more came tumbling out.

Kurt blushed as Nick and Jeff snickered. I glanced over at them, shooting them a death glare. I held back a sigh when I saw Nick's trademark "D'awww" face.

I cleared my throat and picked up my menu. "You're awesome, Kurt. Don't even try to deny it."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the tiniest smile grow on his face before my view was blocked by his menu.

The awkwardness of the conversation gradually faded, and soon we were left with a light-hearted banter, revealing a new side to Kurt. A happy, open, sarcastic one. Sure, I had seen bits of pieces and had gotten my fair share of his biting wit, but this was something else.

He seemed comfortable, content, _happy. _Shocked. He reminded me, in a way, of me, when I first got to Dalton. That uprising feeling in your chest when you realize that all people aren't disgusted to be in your presence, that they have the potential to become your friends, and not your tormentors.

He was making clever quips, and poking fun right back at the goofballs I call my friends. Everything felt right, right at that moment, when he met my eyes. We were both laughing at the story Nick was telling, and his eyes were sparkling. His smile widened, but his laughter died down to chuckles.

We searched each others eyes, the smiles never faltering. I don't know what he saw from me, but a blush crept up his face and he did the cutest, most cliché drop-your-eyes-then-peek-up-through-the-lashes kind of thing, which somehow worked for him.

"_So_," Jeff said loudly, obviously suppressing laughter. "If you two are finished with the sex eyes there, it's time to order."

* * *

_-:-Kurt-:-_

Oh god, that's embarrassing. I felt my cheeks heat up with embarrassment, and I reached up to scrub the embarrassing ink hue away. My brain was still focused on that little jab of humiliation. Then it hit me.

_It's time to order._

The words bounced around in my head incessantly, a never-ending cacophony of taunting voices. I couldn't do this; not in front of Blaine. Blaine and his friends. _My _friends. I can't eat this food, I couldn't eat _any_ food. No, no.

I must have frozen as the thoughts tumbled around the inside of my skull, because Blaine noticed something was off. "Kurt, are you alright? I know it's been a long day…" Concern creased his features. Concern I didn't need or deserve.

I was doing this by choice. I was doing this on purpose. I was doing this _with_ purpose. And nothing could stop me.

I guess I zoned out again, because the next thing I knew, the waitress was standing on my left, pen poised over her notepad and looking to me expectantly.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked, leaning towards me a little. "Are you sure you're okay?" I didn't trust my words, so I nodded. Blaine flicked his head towards the waitress.

"I-I'll have…" I swallowed thickly, scanning the menu for the least-fattening thing I could find, mentally calculating the amount of extra calories I would be taking in and how much extra time I would have to spend at the gym tomorrow. "I'll have a small Caesar salad, light dressing on the side." There, that was okay. Healthy.

_Not the dressing, you fat ass! _My brain hissed. I closed my eyes and steadfastly ignored it, shoving it into the deepest depths of my brain, throwing up a facade that could resemble normalcy.

Blaine still seemed concerned, so I smiled back at him and jumped back into conversation with Nick and Jeff. It wasn't really that difficult; Jeff and Nick were easy to talk to, and still would be even if they didn't supply most of the conversation themselves.

"Here you go! Enjoy your meal." The waitress said, sending me a pointed smile as she set my plate of salad in front of me. I kept my eyes away from it, instead focusing on her and nodding. "Have a nice evening. And thanks again." She directed the last part at me, causing me to blush. Really, it was no big deal. Anyone would have done it.

A light conversation resumed, though muted due to the arrival of the food. I picked up the fork with shaking hands, toying with it before stabbing a piece of lettuce. I hoped if I looked like I was eating and kept them talking, I could get away with eating as little as possible.

I brought the fork up so it was hovering in front of my mouth. I had planned to hold it there for a few minutes, but instead it went straight into my mouth. I had chewed and swallowed before I had realized what I was doing.

My stomach growled menacingly, my insides trying to claw out of me as the bit of food traveled down my throat. I took a deep breath, and before I knew what I was doing, I was shoveling the salad into my face. All at once, an intense pang wracked my stomach; a pang I've come to associate with hunger. But this wasn't as it usually was; I had food in my mouth, food in front of me. And I couldn't stop.

It was Blaine who finally broke into my thoughts and brought me back to myself. "Yeah, Kurt, and you told me you weren't hungry." He scoffed, chuckling as he scooped up a forkful of vegetables.

A surge of panic surged through me, immediately causing a light sweat to cover my body. I steeled myself and glanced down at my plate.

_Oh god._

The plate was empty.

The fork dropped from my fingers, landing with a clatter. The plate was _empty. _I had eaten the entire thing in the space of a few minutes, just like the fucking glutton I always knew I was.

Then it really hit me. An entire plate of food—an entire plate of _carbs _and _fat _and _calories—_was in my stomach right now, digesting and traveling throughout my system. I was overcome with a sudden feeling of nausea. I felt like I was going to be sick.

Oh, yeah, I was.

"Oh, god," I choked out, slapping a hand over my mouth as I scurried out of the booth and made a mad dash for the nearest bathroom.

"Kurt—!" Blaine called out, reaching for my arm as I passed, but the material slipped through his fingers.

I shoved the door to the bathroom open, knocking aside someone who protested with a loud "Hey, watch it!" I ignored him, diving into the nearest stall and falling to my knees. I didn't have long to ponder on the fact that I was _kneeling _on the _floor_ of a _public restroom _before a strong round of gags caused me to choke and splutter.

My fingers clenched into fists, not really wanting to touch the toilet in front of me. But I also didn't want to fall forward, so I rested my arms on the rim as another bout of nausea and gags caused my stomach to clench. This time, though, the gags were more painful and with them came the return of my dinner.

Just as the gagging temporarily subsided and I was gasping for air, I heard someone ask "Are you alright, kid?" and a more familiar voice shout "Kurt! Kurt? Kurt, where are you?"

I tried to speak up, but all I could muster was a weak moan. I heard footsteps, and then the stall door behind me opened. "Kurt!" Blaine said from behind me, leaning down to rest a hand on my back.

A tremor shook my body and I couldn't hold back another groan. I took in a deep, shuddering breath, only to lean over the bowl once more, my entire body shivering, sweating, and heaving.

Once that round was over, the first thought that passed through my brain was "_Don't stop yet, it's not all out!"_

At with that, one stronger gag, the worst yet, had me spilling out what was nothing more than bile and water. A few more heaves, and nothing came up. Blaine was still there, rubbing my back in gentle circles, whispering sweet things like "Shh, Kurt, it's okay. Almost done."

But I wasn't listening to him. My reeling brain could only focus on one thing:

"_Don't stop yet, it's not all out!"_

What?

* * *

**(A/N): Phew! I'm glad this is finally out there. I've had the idea for this part in my head for **_**ages!**_

**You all know by now that I love reviews, so keep them coming! They really make my day.**

**I'm not sure how regimented my updating will be from here on out, seeing as I royally screwed up the whole 'every Thursday' thing. Maybe it'll be every Tuesday now? **

**I also have one more thing I'd like answers for: Do you like the chapter lengths I've been going with? It's usually about 4000 words or so. I'd love to know so I could make you guys happy! :D**

**Remember to check out Unexpected Guests by AlyDuartsGleek and I! **

**~DFTBA and Best Wishes!**


	8. Excuses

**(A/N): I really suck, guys.**

**I'm so mean. I don't give you these chapters fast enough! And then I give you excuses/reasons. :/ But anyways, it's still customary. This chapter deals a lot with the aftermath from last chapter, and I didn't think it would be a good idea to write about throwing up when I myself was nauseas. I hope you understand. :(**

**This chapter also gave me trouble. I mean, I knew exactly where I was going. But the words wouldn't work and… Yeah.**

**And then I, an admitted angst whore, was feasting on the puniest scraps of Klaine fluff to stem the effects of my Klaine withdrawal. I **_**never **_**do that. But I did. And I watched the most beautiful fanvids on this entire freaking currently-Klaineless planet. Go on YouTube and just watch anything by **_**Alibodyrus. **_**Cue fangirl(Or boy. I don't know if males read this. XD)ing. Enjoy.**

**Oh! And I might be looking for a beta. I know little yet still annoying typos slip through and I want to help avoid those while also getting some more feedback. Any volunteers? :D**

**Okay! Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Or it would be all Klaine all the time. When it is, you'll know we have taken over.**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Excuses**

_But I wasn't listening to him. My reeling brain could only focus on one thing:_

"_**Don't stop yet, it's not all out!**__"_

_What?_

* * *

_-:-Kurt-:-_

The thought bounced around and around in my head, lingering and echoing and remaining. There was nothing left in my stomach—I was sure I'd thrown up the equivalent to a week of meals—and yet dry heaves still racked my body. My ribs screamed in protest and tears formed rivulets as they traveled down my cheeks.

When the chance arrived, I gasped in a lungful of air, spluttering and shaking. I could still barely register through my disoriented mind that a warm weight still rested on my back: Blaine.

"Kurt, oh my god, Kurt." He muttered worriedly.

"Holy shit, Blaine, is he alright?" Jeff gaped, holding a teary-eyed Nick tightly against his chest.

"Blaine, he looks like he's about to pass out." Nick warned.

It sure felt like I was. My head felt like a heavy, leaden weight yet still spun dizzyingly and felt light as a feather. My mind was jumbled into an unintelligible mass of thoughts. My vision was narrowing, fading into nothing around the edges.

I tried to sort my thoughts out, to single out that lone phrase that struck a nerve. But I couldn't. Not with the constant spinning in my head, the incessant rolling in my stomach, the persistent stabs of pain from my ribs. I realized I was holding my breath as the waves of pain rippled throughout me from various points on my body.

I sucked in a much-needed lungful of air and released my vise-like grip on the edge of the toilet. It seemed like that wasn't the best idea, because without the support I toppled lifelessly to the side.

Blaine cried out as he lunged forward, catching me and cradling my head in his lap. My eyes drifted closed, but I was surprisingly still lucid enough to hear the voices around me, though they mostly came across as a dull roar.

Then one sentence stood out of the surrounding haze. "We have to take him to a hospital or something."

That caught my attention. "No!" I said, more strongly than I would have thought possible. "No! No, no please, no, no…" My eyes flew open, roving over their faces without focusing as my brain spun out of control and my mouth continued to run on autopilot.

My breathing picked up speed as I kept unremittingly mumbling, the only thing I seemed capable of doing in my current state. "No, no, no hospital! No, no, no please, please, no…" Panic bubbled in my chest and my heart skipped a beat. The breaths caught in my throat, making me choke and struggle further.

"Calm down, Kurt, god, _please_!" Blaine yelled, running his hands soothingly over my face and through my hair, moving my bangs out off of my sweaty forehead. I tried to focus on his face, but all I could manage was a few seconds. The effort was too much. "Breathe slowly with me, now. In, out." I could hear the panic in his voice, the desperation, but he took calm, deliberate breaths. I tried to will my lungs to obey, to follow in suit, but it was more difficult than I imagined.

Eventually, though, the pace of my breaths slowed and was close to what could be considered normal. In accordance with that, my vision was nearly completely consumed by blackness and I felt my limbs growing heavy.

I took in one deep breath and used it to hoarsely whisper, "Blaine, 'm so… tired…"

"I know, baby," Blaine cooed softly, caressing my cheek. "You can sleep now."

* * *

_-:-Blaine-:-_

To put it bluntly, I was scared _shitless._

I had no idea what I was doing when it came to a situation like this. I don't know how you care for someone in this way. I had no problems caring _about_ someone, romantically, platonically, or otherwise. I've been told I have an overwhelming instinct to care about people; it's the instinct to care _for_ that I lacked.

Despite that, I did the best I could to help Kurt through the ordeal. I did what my mother would have done for me: rubbing his back, whispering soft, sweet words, and staying there with a supportive presence.

I don't even know what words my mouth was making. I was focused on Kurt. I felt tears spring to my eyes. He looked like he was in so much pain, pain that I could hardly bear to witness. His eyes and facial expressions showed a lingering undertone of fear and desperation, too, and that's what worried me the most.

"Blaine, he looks like he's about to pass out," I faintly heard Nick say. And it was true; his body seemed to tremble and sway dangerously. All at once, he was slumping over to the side.

With a sort of choked exclamation of surprise, I lunged for him, cradling his body to my chest. I settled him against my lap and brushed his sweat-matted hair away from his face.

I looked back at Jeff and Nick where they were huddled at the door to the stall. I must have had some sort of wild look on my face, because Jeff suggested, "We have to take him to a hospital or something."

At those words, Kurt's eyes flew open and his breathing kicked into double time. His eyes shot all round the room, unseeing. All the while he was mumbling frantically "No! No, no please, no, no…"

His level of panic was unprecedented and definitely unexpected. It seems he couldn't get enough air to his lungs, and when he did they caught in his throat, leaving him choking and spluttering with wide, panicked eyes.

"Calm down, Kurt, god_, please_!" I begged, my hands contradicting the urgency in my words with gentle swipes across his forehead and smooth caresses along his jaw. His breathing was still worryingly erratic, so I calmed my thoughts and focused on calming him. "Breathe slowly with me, now. In, out." I said, grabbing his hand and squeezing.

With those words, his eyes finally met mine, but the focus behind them faded and wavered, even as his breathing began to fall in time with my deep, calculated breaths.

You could sense the change in him instantly. The panic had all but disappeared from him features, but was replaced with sheer exhaustion. His body relaxed and he became almost like a dead weight in my arms. His eyelids fluttered gently, meeting mine for a fleeting second before they fell closed once more, as if the effort was too much. With one deep breath, he hoarsely whispered, "Blaine, 'm so… tired."

My insides just melted. Despite the extremely stressful situation I was currently in, I couldn't hold back a small smile. He was just too adorable for his own good. It made me want to see sleepy Kurt more often. With those thoughts lingering in my mind, I brought a hand gently to his cheek, stroking it with my thumb. "I know, baby," I said, not even realizing that a pet name had slipped through. "You can sleep now."

* * *

I now had to figure out what the hell I was going to do with Kurt. Should I take him to a hospital? Is he dehydrated? Should I get him anything? Or should I just take him home, where his dad can look after him?

I looked to Nick and Jeff. "What do we do now?" I whispered urgently, unconsciously hugging Kurt a little tighter against my chest.

Jeff and Nick smiled softly down at the napping Kurt in my lap. "You know, despite the shit that just went down, he really is beautiful in sleep." Nick mused, tilting his head slightly against Jeff's chest.

I smiled. My thoughts exactly.

We stayed there for a few minutes, musing halfheartedly about the best course of action as we tidied up the stall we were accompanying. "You know, maybe we should just ask Kurt." Nick said suddenly, breaking into our argument on which was the closest hospital.

I looked down at the still-slumbering boy in my lap. He snuffled in his sleep, nuzzling his nose against my stomach. My breath hitched, but I tried to pass it off as though it matter, as though it didn't set the butterflies aflutter.

I reached a tentative hand and placed it on his shoulder, squeezing once before giving him a gentle shake. "Kurt?" I said, kind of awkwardly. "Come on, Kurtie…"

His eyes opened, and he blinked up at me blearily. His seemed disoriented and confused, and tried to sit up. He managed for a few seconds, but I could see in his face that the room was spinning and he fell heavily against my side once more.

"Kurt, we've got to know what we're going to do here." Jeff said, crouching down to his eye level.

"No hospital." He said adamantly.

"Okay, then we're just going to take you home so—"

"_No!_" He shouted, sitting up straight and leaning towards Jeff urgently. "No, no. That's okay."

The three of us shared a confused and slightly suspicious look. Jeff nodded once. "Okay…" He said slowly.

Kurt huffed and flicked his hair away from his eyes. Taking in a steadying breath, he looked around at us three. "I'm fine." He met my eyes. "I'm fine."

"Kurt, you're probably dehydrated and dizzy as hell. You puked up a storm, how could you not be? There's no way your driving home like this." Jeff said bluntly.

Kurt's noise scrunched (adorably) at Jeff's elegant word choices. He swallowed once and grimaced, bringing a hand to his throat. "Okay, what if you get me some water?"

"And?" I prompted.

"And we see how I feel after that." Kurt relented. He leaned back a little bit, settling against my chest. I held back a sigh of contentment and smiled. A few seconds later, Kurt seemed to realize exactly what—or who—he was leaning against.

"Oh god, Blaine! I-I'm sorry, I d-didn't mean to—" He started to apologize frantically, pulling himself away from me and hugging his knees to his chest.

I frowned a bit from the loss of his body warmth and presence. I also noticed the absence of a light hint of vanilla in the air—a scent that must have been coming from Kurt. In fact, now that he had moved, I realized just how good Kurt smelled. It was like a touch of coffee with a hint of vanilla and an underlying scent that I could only describe as pure _Kurt. _Now that it was gone, my nostrils were filled with the scent of public restroom.

"No, you're fine." I assured him with a smile, though I wished I could take him back into my arms and never let go. "It's no problem whatsoever. What are friends for, right?"

* * *

_-:-Kurt-:-_

I still couldn't believe I had found a friend like Blaine. A friend who held me and comforted me on the floor of a public restroom as I puked my guts out. I did nothing to deserve this. In fact, with everything I've done and everything I am, I deserve the exact opposite. But by some twist of fate, he's still here, looking into my eyes and brushing my bangs away from my face as he handed me a glass of water.

I leant back against the wall of the stall, tentatively taking a sip of the water. I couldn't hold back a grimace as the cool water went down my raw, parched throat. As the three Dalton boys fell into a different conversation, I let my mind wander.

Well, this sucked. This wasn't the most opportune time to get sick, to put it lightly. And it definitely didn't improve my day at all. Also, now that I thought of it, it had ruined the evenings of Nick and Jeff, who were probably hoping to spend it chatting lightly over a delicious meal, holding hands and sneaking kisses. Not huddled in a public restroom to watch this guy that they had just met be violently ill.

Great. Just another thing I've royally screwed up.

Upon a prompting glance from Blaine, I took another sip of the water. It hurt less this time. The faint, lingering burning in my throat brought my thoughts back to the situation as a whole. I dropped my head back, closing my eyes. I _really _did not need to be sick right now. Because that's all this was; a bug. Nothing more, nothing less. It would blow over in a day or two, and I would be fine.

But my mind couldn't help but dredge up some things I'd rather not linger on; I couldn't stop them. My thoughts drifted over the fact that I had, in fact, gotten sick pretty conveniently. I had just eaten that entire plate of food. The sickness got rid of it all, leaving me to not have to worry about extra calories or hours in the gym.

I latched onto this idea. It seemed like it could potentially solve the problem that has arisen lately. Blaine is getting… suspicious about my lack of eating. If he digs too far into it, he could get the wrong idea and then completely ruin all my progress. I can't have him interfering if I am to be perfect. For my dad's sake. This way, I would be able to eat around people, around Blaine, and then get rid of it. No one would know, except me. It meant control, power, _perfection._

I shook my head sharply, taking another sip, and another. I couldn't do that. Perfect people didn't do that. I knew this, I did! But I couldn't keep my thoughts away for too long, and the pros started stacking up, outweighing the cons that I forced myself to create.

I gave up the battle, completely shutting that sector of my brain off instead of surrendering. I couldn't go down that path; it had too many risks, too many consequences. I couldn't do that if I wanted to truly reach my goal.

So I drank my water, calmed my thoughts and pulled up the ever-present façade. Soon the glass in my hand was empty, and Blaine broke out of the conversation about song choices for Regionals. "How are you feeling?" He asked, coming over to sit next to me.

I sighed. "Better." I looked down, and I could feel my cheeks heat up. "I-I'm sorry you had to… see that."

Blaine shook his head and placed a hand comfortingly on my shoulder. "Really, Kurt. It's no big deal. Besides, you couldn't help it that you got sick."

_Yes, Kurt. You're just sick, is all._

* * *

It took a fair bit of arguing and convincing, but I got Blaine to agree to let me drive myself home. I don't know what my dad would say if I was dropped off by another boy, especially after the encounter we just had. Not that it mattered. I had no intention of going home today.

"Do you want me to… follow you home? Just to make sure you get in alright." Blaine said with a faint blush on his cheeks.

I shook my head. "No one's at home right now. I was actually going to go to my friend Mercedes' house." I said, coming up with it on the spot. There, Mercedes wouldn't mind one bit if I came over. That, and as much as she denies it, she loves to play nurse with me. I've sure done it enough times to her.

"Oh, okay." Blaine said nodding. "Well, um, could you text me when you get there?"

I smiled. Blaine was so cute when he was flustered and worried. _Flustered and worried about you, _a small part of my brain chirped. My smile grew a little wider, and I dropped my gaze from his warm gray eyes. "Y-Yeah, sure."

I stood up from the floor, and immediately my body protested. My head pounded, my stomach lurched, and my ribs exploded with pain. I leant against the wall for support and waited for the roaring in my ears to die down. "Kurt?" I heard. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I said, forcing a small smile. "The blood just hasn't gotten back to my legs yet."

I made a show of shaking and rubbing my legs, as if I was halting the take over of pins and needles. The three of them laughed, and I was just glad they had taken the bait. After what I had deemed an acceptable length of time, I straightened up slowly.

Blaine and I headed out to the cars and Nick and Jeff stopped by the table to pay the check as they had insisted. The trip was filled with Blaine's frantic worries and my light-hearted reassurances—that didn't reassure Blaine at all.

"You'd say you were fine even if you weren't." Blaine protested when I once again answered his inquiries with the same phrase.

While that was true, I didn't see how he could know that. I turned to him cryptically. "And how would you k—?"

"The migraine." Blaine cut in with a tight smile. I averted my eyes. Oh. "That was just earlier today, Kurt. It's not as if it's old news."

It _felt _like it was so long ago, though. So much has happened today, just thinking about it made my head spin. So many things that shouldn't be able to fit into the span of twenty-four hours, but have seemed to manage. And the best part? Not one of them was good.

I sighed, my eyes feeling heavy. I just wanted to sleep off what could be officially and not at all exaggeratedly the worst day ever.

Blaine came up beside me, halting my footsteps with a light hand on my forearm. Trying to hold back a blush, I turned to him. "Kurt," he said with a light chuckle, "I know it's been an _extremely _long day, and I'm sorry if I'm getting on your nerves or something, but…" he hesitated and seemed to grab for words. "I'm _worried_ about you, okay? A lot of things have happened today." He paused again. "Look, I consider you my closest friend, despite the fact that we met maybe two weeks ago and that's crazy."

I smiled. It's amazing, truly, that we could be on the same page. I really was so lucky to have found someone like Blaine. He returned my smile and I could feel my insides melt and shudder, but in the good way. I was thankful he couldn't read my mind right now, because my thoughts were an incoherent mass of _Blaine_ and how one day I would have to gather the courage to ask him what color his beautiful eyes were.

He continued with that small, tentative smile still on his face. "I just don't want you to get hurt, or _be _hurting in any way, okay? I care about you. A lot." His voice sounded almost choked here, and I wanted nothing more than to lean forward and capture those lips in a kiss. But he continued and I stopped myself before I did anything stupid. "I just want you to reiterate that… that I'm here for you, okay?" he finished.

I really couldn't stop a tear from slowly making its way down my face. I nodded my head and looked at Blaine. His eyes shimmered in the soft evening sun and I once again found my thoughts drifting away. I sniffed and swiped at my cheeks as a few more tears joined the first. "Thank you, Blaine." I whispered. "It means a lot. More than you could know."

He pulled me to his chest, and I could no longer deny that this is what it truly felt like to be home.

* * *

Nick and Jeff's arrival ended the hug and the heart felt speeches. After a few short conversations, it was determined, rather reluctantly on my part, that Blaine would follow me to Mercedes' to make sure I was safe. Nick and Jeff would return to Dalton, but insisted that one of us texted them that I was okay. While it was unnecessary, it felt nice to have at least one small group of people who cared.

The departure was paired with hugs and well-wishes, and Blaine and I were soon on the familiar route to Mercedes' house. I spent most of the drive in silence, fighting off the barrage of my own thoughts with the focus of driving.

As I was turning onto the exit, I glanced into my rearview mirror to check that Blaine was still there. I smiled. He was looking to his left, but I could still see his mouth moving along to whatever song was playing on the radio. Katy Perry, most likely. I scoffed and shook my head.

Sooner than I had expected, I found myself parked in Mercedes' driveway. I got out of the car, and a wave of exhaustion hit me all at once. I was greatly looking forward to the opportunity to do nothing but sleep.

I heard Blaine's footsteps behind me. "You look absolutely beat." He said teasingly.

"I think I have a right." I said, and punctuated it with a yawn. Blaine just giggled as we rang the doorbell and waited on the porch.

Thankfully, it was Mercedes who opened the door. "Kurt? Is everything okay?" She asked immediately. I frowned. I must look worse off than I thought.

Her concern-filled eyes shifted over my shoulder to where Blaine was standing awkwardly a few feet behind me. "And you are?" She directed towards him with a hint of protectiveness seeping into her voice.

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson. I'm a friend of Kurt's from school." Blaine answered with his disarmingly charming smile.

I could see her cool exterior melt just the slightest and she turned back to me. "Well?"

By this point, I really couldn't handle standing much longer. My head was pulsing with my rapid heartbeat, my eyes could barely stay open, and my knees were shaking. "Mercedes, I really need to lie down." I said kind of urgently as the ground slanted sickeningly underneath me.

Both Blaine and Mercedes rushed forward to grab hold of my arms and led me to the sofa. I plopped down gratefully and listened to the conversation between my two favorite people.

"So do _you _mind telling me what the hell is going on?" Mercedes snapped.

"I took Kurt out to dinner and he got sick." Blaine answered calmly. "He also had a pretty shitty day at school and dance rehearsal, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't eaten anything all day."

I opened my eyes just as Mercedes looked to me. "White boy, I am going to take you up to my room where you are going to _sleep. _And when you wake up, I'm going to make you the best god damned chicken soup you'll ever have."

Blaine smiled. "I see you're in good hands. I really must be going if I'm going to make curfew." Blaine said politely, backing towards the door and extracting his phone from his blazer pocket. His voice softened almost imperceptibly. "Goodnight, Kurt. Take care of yourself."

I heard the click of the door closing and felt Mercedes settle by my feet. I struggled into a semi-sitting position and waited.

"Under any other circumstances, I would threaten you until you explained to me why the hottest hunk of prep school just brought you home from dinner." She said playfully. "But instead, I'm going to take you upstairs and get you ready for bed."

I sighed, swiping a hand across my eyes. "Thank you, Cedes. I'm sorry for imposing—"

"Stop right there, Kurtie." She cut in. "You're not imposing and you know it." She stood up and helped me to my feet. "Now, enough chit-chat. You best get yourself some sleep."

* * *

The world faded back into focus very gradually. First came the realization that I was awake, and next the sound of birds chirping outside the window. Soon enough I could feel the soft sheets entangling my legs and the numbness that held my body in place. My thoughts were still very much asleep, and I had to wait for them to catch up before I could regain the ability to move. I stretched sluggishly, sitting up slowly and prying my eyes open.

What I saw shocked me, bringing me that much closer to lucidity. I was in Mercedes' bedroom. I could feel the panic about to set in when my mind helpfully brought up the memories from the horrendous day before. With a groan, I sunk back into the welcoming warmth of the bed.

I sucked in a deep breath, relishing the contentment of a good night's sleep. Then I hesitated, noticing an odd taste lingering on my tongue. It tasted a little like broth. I looked to the nightstand to see an empty bowl that must have held chicken noodle soup.

Before I could even fully regain the memory, I was in front of the toilet in Mercedes' en suite bathroom, fighting back tears as heaves wracked my body. Each gag was sharp and painful, like a knife slicing straight through my ribcage and carving into my stomach. I coughed roughly and desperately sucked in air after the heaves subsided. When I was left sweating in silence once more, I heard someone pounding up the stairs.

"Kurt? Kurt!" Moments later, the bathroom door flew open to reveal a frazzled Mercedes. I was just about to utter the customary 'I'm fine', but instead I gagged harshly once more, leaving me panting and sweating and I frantically tried to catch my breath.

I took a second to gather my scrambled thoughts before I could even register the feel of Mercedes' hand on my back or the coolness of the washcloth she pressed to my forehead. "Oh, Kurtie!" She fussed, rubbing soothing circles into my back.

I swallowed, and cried out at the sharp twinge of pain from my raw throat. I heard Cedes mumbling to herself and I let my eyes slip closed. A few moments later, I felt a glass pressed to my lips. I drank the liquid—organic apple juice, my favorite—obediently. She sent me back to bed after making sure that would stay down, coming back a few minutes later with some tablets to calm my stomach.

This sickness was really getting on my nerves. All it accomplished was making those around me worried and making myself worry about creating messes everywhere I go. Not to mention that throwing up isn't exactly the most pleasant of activities.

_Don't forget the benefits. _A voice in my head hissed tauntingly just as the last threads of consciousness slipped from my grasp, and I was encompassed in the gentle darkness of sleep.

* * *

I woke up a few hours later, feeling less rested but also less nauseous. My eyes shot to the nightstand before my brain could catch up. On top of the cherry wood table was nothing except an empty glass and a bottle of pills.

Relief flooded through my system. _Now_ _I won't have to throw anything up,_ I thought_._ Wait, no. Now I wouldn't have anything _to _throw up. My brain was still addled from sleep and illness. I convinced myself that was the only reason for my word confusion.

The door opened with a creak, and was soon followed by a voice. "Great, you're up. How're you feeling, boo?"

I smiled up at Mercedes. "Better. I—" I paused to clear my throat and rid my voce of its harsh, gravelly tone. "I think it's passed."

"It better." She chirped, poking my arm lightly. "Not just for my sake, but for yours. That did _not _look fun, white boy."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "No. Sorry, Cedes! That's my new favorite hobby." I said sarcastically. Mercedes laughed, but I could only force a chuckle as a feeling of wrongness flooded through me. Those words didn't feel right at all, like I'd struck a nerve of some sort.

I didn't have time to ponder long before Mercedes was gently pulling me out of the bed. "Come on. Let's get some food in you."

I didn't have to worry too much; my tender stomach couldn't handle anything too strong, and Mercedes knew that. She coaxed me into eating a piece of toast and a few slices of banana.

We spent the next little while chatting lightly about nothing incredibly important. I knew I was just on watch again, but I didn't care. I too hoped this annoying illness had passed and would leave me be. I had goals to tend to and couldn't have it getting in my way.

The conversation died down quickly. We sat in a semi-awkward silence before I piped up. "Well, hopefully this means it's all over with."

Mercedes chuckled. "Here's hoping. I should probably be taking you home now, yeah?"

"No, you don't have to do that." I shook my head. "I'm fine enough to drive." I smiled at her. Really, it was all appreciated. But I had a lot of things to work out myself. Plus, the longer I waited, the worse my punishment would be. "I'm fine, Cedes."

"Don't you lie to me, white boy!" She said with a playful smile, but her eyes were serious.

"Really, Cedes. My dad must be… worrying about me. I have to go." A bubble of panic gurgled in my chest as I faced the realization: I had to go home and face the music. Hopefully he wouldn't even be there, or at least too drunk to care. Or maybe, if luck was on my side, he had even forgotten.

She nodded. "Yeah, he called while you were asleep. He didn't sound very happy."

* * *

**(A/N): So? Thoughts? I'm kind of nervous about this chapter, because (due partially to the request of **_**rooz33**_**) I tried to get deeper into their thoughts. Primarily Kurt. And I don't know how I did with it.**

**Speaking of, super special thanks and hugs to **_**rooz33**_**! A super inspiring review does wonders for the muse. ;)**

**BE WARNED. Some serious shit is going to hit some fans within the next couple chapters, if you couldn't tell by my cliffy. I am **_**very**_** excited. XD And also worried. All of us will just be anxiously awaiting the next chapter. :S**

**Oh, and **_**thank you all! **_**The response to this story has been way more than I'd ever imagined. It's beginning to rival **_**Dalton: Witnessed **_**in review count. Except these reviews tend to be longer and meaningful and complimentary and extremely fangirl-inducing. SO yeah, enough rambles.**

**THANK YOU.**

**~DFTBA and Best Wishes!**


	9. Consequences

**(A/N): I've gone back to my old chapters and realized these are long and rambley. So I'll try to keep it short. :)**

**This chapter was surprisingly easy, coming in awkward 2000 word spurts. The only hard part was with Burt. I don't like writing this Burt. It makes me sad. :(**

**Oh! And I'm going to try to update this again before Friday, because then I'm going on vacation for a week and won't be able to update. So I'll try to give you these two to hold you over. ;) …Okay, and I'm just **_**SUPER **_**excited for next chapter. :D**

**Just a warning: This chapter is, like, my longest ever. Over 6000 words! Almost 6500! :O**

**SPECIAL THANKS! To xXHopelessXxXRomanticXx who was my 50th reviewer! Sorry, I just noticed today or I would have told you in our extensive PM's! ;)  
Also to the beloved _AlyDuartsGleek _and _The Songbirds Are Singing _because I love them and they were 49 and 51, respecitvely. :D**

**Disclaimer: No Glee ownership. Sad. I WANT KLAINE! **

* * *

**Chapter 9: Consequences**

"_Really, Cedes. My dad must be… worrying about me. I have to go." A bubble of panic gurgled in my chest as I faced the realization: I had to go home and face the music. Hopefully he wouldn't even be there, or at least too drunk to care. Or maybe, if luck was on my side, he had even forgotten._

_She nodded. "Yeah, he called while you were asleep. He didn't sound very happy."_

* * *

_-:-Kurt-:-_

I froze, my brain immediately kicking into hyper drive as adrenaline flooded my system. "W-What?"

"Yeah, he said he hasn't seen or heard from you since before dance yesterday." Mercedes said, oblivious to the reaction that one simple sentence had.

I nodded. "I-I should g-go, then." I cringed as the words came out with a stutter, worried they would alert Mercedes to that fact that something was wrong. Fortunately, it didn't. Unfortunately, it was something else.

"Kurt, are you _sure _you're fine?" Mercedes asked skeptically with one eyebrow raised. "You're shaking like a leaf."

I cursed myself internally, taking a few seconds to come up with a feasible reply. "I'm w-worried about my dad." I said, hoping it sounded convincing. "I don't want him to have another heart attack because he's worrying about me." My voice shook, wavering with fear and sadness.

Mercedes' eyes softened. "I get it, Kurt. Go on."

I nodded through the torrent of thoughts, my eyes squeezed shut. Although it worked like a charm, getting accomplished exactly what I wanted, it brought with it too many things I did not want to deal with. Not again.

I steeled myself, turning away from Mercedes and rubbing a hand across my forehead. _It's okay, Kurt, you can do this, _I told myself. I took a deep breath through my nose and opened my eyes. Those thoughts were locked away once again. Securely. Well, maybe not so. I knew I would relive them again tonight, in my dreams—in my nightmares—when I was most susceptible, but for now… for now I had it under control.

I tossed a nonchalant look over my shoulder, smiling lightly at Mercedes as I headed to my car. "Thanks, Cedes. I really don't deserve you." And she had no idea how true that statement really was.

* * *

I tried to drive home. I did, but I encountered problems that I hadn't predicted.

As I neared my subdivision, my thoughts started to drift towards Burt. Angry Burt; a Burt who most likely was severely pissed off at me, and not unwilling to use violence to put me in my place. Violence and harsh, true words. _The truth hurt, _and Burt uses that to his advantage.

A surreal, dark sense of dread engulfed me, drowning me and filling my mind with nothing but pure panic. It was like a flurry of activity and a barren space of emptiness occurring simultaneously. It made no sense and would never make sense and was completely illogical, but there you go. My surroundings wavered and blurred. I had just enough sense left in me to pull roughly over to the shoulder and jam the car into park as I gasped for breath.

I felt as though a heavy, crushing weight had settled onto my chest, making breathing a laughable activity. I could do nothing but gasp pathetically as the tremors started. My thoughts were completely erratic and nonsensical. Everything around me was spinning and my hands flew to my head, clutching desperately as though it could keep my brains from exploding outwards. Nothing made sense and everything was indistinct and I couldn't remember where I was. Was I sitting in my Navigator on the exit, or was I lying crumpled on the floor of my house in a pile of shattered glass, unable to do anything but stay still and endure the kicks, the punches, the harsh, grating words?

I screamed. I screamed and yelled at the top of my lungs. I don't know what I was saying, or even if I was forming words at all. I just know sounds were coming out of my mouth and I couldn't stop them. The walls around me were closing in, trapping me and snatching away any chance of escape. _I had to get out._ With an anguished, desperate screech, I flung the door open and tumbled to the ground, taking huge gulps of the fresh air. I clutched onto my head tighter, grounding my thoughts and my body as I dropped to the ground and leaned back. My entire body was covered in a cold sweat and chills racked my frame, but I didn't make a move. Not until the last of my thoughts had settled, not until that dreadful, all-encompassing panic and all but completely ebbed away.

Just as I had begun to convince myself everything would be okay and I could finish the drive home, a car pulled up behind me on the shoulder. A pretty young girl stepped out, stepping cautiously over the roadside rubble in her high heeled shoes. "Are you alright?" She asked tentatively as she neared me.

I looked up at her, taking a deep shuddering breath and dropping my hands to my sides. "Yeah. Y-Yeah, I'm fine, thank you."

She seemed to observe me, taking in every detail, and I could only submit to her scrutiny. She nodded once and crouched down next to me. "Panic attack?" She asked in a wise, knowing voice.

"Was that what that was?" I mumbled, looking down to the ground as the realization hit.

"Ah, it was your first one." She said. The light breeze flicked her fiery red curls across her bright green eyes as she looked down, too, before she looked up and waited until I met her gaze. "That's the worst one, I promise. Once you know what it is that's happening, and soon enough how to stop them in their tracks, you'll be able to get through it."

I could do nothing but nod. My thoughts had awoken from their momentary peaceful stage and were once again rampant. She must have seen the wild look in my eyes, because she turned to me sharply. "Don't go riling yourself up again. One is enough for one day." Her voice remained gentle, but those emerald eyes were piercing.

I nodded again. "Thank you," I said sincerely. I honestly don't know how long I would have sat there, leaning against my car on the shoulder of the highway, trying to sort out exactly what had happened. And that didn't count the time it would take me to gather my courage and prepare myself to face was up ahead.

She stood up gracefully, smoothing out her plaid uniform skirt and extending a hand to help me up. I took it gratefully, standing on shaky, uncertain legs. "Really," I said as I held onto her hand. "_Thank you_."

"Anytime. I've been there; I couldn't just leave you there when I knew I would have been able to help." She said simply with a small smile.

I stood there and took a breath. "I'm Kurt." I said suddenly. "Kurt Hummel."

She smiled wider. "Carsonne." She said. "Carsonne Bell."

It felt better to know each other's names. It felt like we had shared such an intimate moment, this sort of shared experience, it would be odd not to.

"Tell you what," She said suddenly, "I'll give you my number. That way, if you need my help again, or just need advice or someone to talk to, you can come to me." She paused at the stunned look on my face. "I figured it would help to have someone who knows what you're dealing with."

I nodded, extracting my phone from my pocket and handing it over. She unlocked the screen and stared for a second at my background picture. She looked up at me with a sweet smile and said, "Oh, so you're a Dalton boy." She chuckled. The photo was of Blaine and I, both in uniform, relaxing on the grounds and just being teenagers. One of Blaine's friends had stolen his phone and snapped a picture. He sent it to me, and I set it as a reminder of what happiness looks like. "I go to Crawford." She said in explanation.

We exchanged numbers, a few more words, and tentative hugs, and before I knew it we were both on our way and I had pulled up in my driveway. I sat there for a few more seconds, really not wanting to go in, but knowing I was only delaying the inevitable.

I walked cautiously into the silent house, creeping silently through the deathly quiet halls. I hardly dared to breathe as I looked around, scoping out every detail in hopes of evading my father for just the tiniest bit longer. I had made it to the center of the house before a noise made me freeze. My breath hitched and I listened, listened for anything.

Nothing.

My heart was beating hummingbird fast as I looked in every direction. I steeled myself and searched the rest of the house.

Nothing.

He wasn't home.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Tears streamed down my face unrestrained and I stumbled a few steps, suddenly feeling like I could sleep for the next few decades as the panic and tension slipped farther and farther away. Sniffing and wiping my eyes, I made my way up the stairs and into my room. Dead on my feet, I swiftly locked the door before collapsing on my bed, asleep before I even hit the pillow.

* * *

I reentered consciousness suddenly, snapping up in bed and looking around my room in confusion. I blinked a few times blearily, wondering why I was awake and not enjoying the blissful unawareness of sleep. Eventually, it occurred to my brain that something must have woken me up. Through the sleep-induced fog, I listened, listened for any sort of sound, but there was nothing. Only silence. I tried to listen harder, but my eyelids fluttered shut and sleep once again dragged me under.

* * *

Looking back, there are so many things I wish had gone differently, anything that I could have done or changed to spur a different outcome. Little things I hadn't noticed, decisions I'd made. Anything that had contributed or led to this event occurring. Anything that I could have done to _avoid _it.

Had I been awake, I may have heard the thumping of heavy footsteps coming up the wooden staircase. I could have heard the footsteps increase in volume as they grew nearer, until they stopped right outside my bedroom door and the house was once again bathed in silence.

If only I wasn't sleeping, I could have moved, or hid, or gotten away. But I only slept on, unknowing, as the nearly-silent scrape of metal on metal tried to penetrate the stillness of the air. A light clack sounded as the metal of the doorknob encountered the lock.

I should have been awake. I should have been awake so I could have heard the frustrated growl that broke the silence. I wish I _had_ been awake. I wish I had been awake so I could have gotten away… out through the window, or something. Any means necessary, as long as I was out and away from here. From _him._

I wish I had awoken to the sound of the door knob jostling as he tried to pick the lock, the sound the metal made as he invaded the inner workings of the simple contraption. But I didn't. I slept.

Another growl, this time louder, angrier, impatient. Furious.

_Wake up, Kurt, wake up!_

Time was running out. By the time I would finally rejoin the conscious, it would be too late.

"Kurt…" My name once again shattered the tranquility, and yet I still wouldn't wake. _Why _wouldn't I just wake up?

"Kurt, open the door." The voice floated through the stillness, sounding vainly thin and neat, cajoling, not menacing on the surface, but beneath it all, beneath the guise was murderous rage and hate, simmering deep within and waiting anxiously to be released.

"_Kurt, _open the _god-damned DOOR!" _He thundered, kicking the door hard enough to crack and splinter the wood.

I flung out of bed and tumbled to the floor, breathing harshly and hugging my ribs against the pain and the panic threatening to burst out of my chest. I tried to hold back my desperate, gut-wrenching sobs for as long as I could. I needed to be able to think fast on and my feet if I wanted to get out of this.

I gasped in a breath, backing away from the door as another round of his attacks made it shudder in its frame. I prayed with every last bit of myself, hoping that what I was was enough to get through to whoever was listening up there. _Okay, okay, Kurt. Think!_

My thoughts were in a flurry. I searched around my room frantically, trying to force inspiration to hit in a spark of genius that could save my life. Amazingly, my thoughts fell into order. _You need to stall him, deter him, and then get the __**hell**__ out._

My eyes flew around my room with more purpose. They landed on my desk chair. I breathed out a shuddering sigh that soon turned into a choke when the door was once again assaulted and accompanied with a wild, animalistic roar of fury.

I grabbed the chair and swooped it in front of the door, lodging it under the handle like I'd seen done in so many movies. I prayed that would work long enough for me to construct an escape plan.

I started pacing my room, my breathing bordering on hysteric and my thoughts more rampant than they've ever been before. With the occasional interruptive flinch, I figured that the one and only way out was through the window. _It's only two stories, _I thought to myself unconvincingly. _How bad of a drop could it be?_

Just as I had steeled myself and had begun to wrench open the window, the door shook violently, and with a menacing yell, I heard wood cracking and splintering. The bangs and crashes were now never stopping, coming in constant spurts of noise and anger and hate, with yells of "You fucking _faggot, _be a man and _face_ me!" and "You are _going _to fucking wish you were never _born _when I'm done with you! You god damned fairy, no one undermines me and gets away_ alive_!"

With a frantic whimper, I slid down the wall as tremors shook my body. I was going to die. My own father was going to kill me. And it was all my fault. Why couldn't I have just been the perfect son he's always wanted? I was working on it, but I was such a fuck up and couldn't get it done fast enough. And now, I was paying for it with my life. My stupid, insignificant life.

With a gasp of air, I flung back up from the ground, wrestling with the latch on the windowsill with a renewed vigor and sense of urgency. My entire body was shaking and my hands were clammy. Terrified, anguished noises burst past my lips every time my fingers fumbled or slipped from the latch, and I full out screamed when the banging and sound of demolished wood reached its crescendo behind me. I pounded and shoved on the screen that covered my window, trying in vain to pop it out of the frame, but one corner was stuck. I yelled out in panic, my sobs taking over. I was so close, _so close _to escape. With shriek I threw my weight against it, and with a loud snap it came loose, tumbling into the bushes below. I caught myself on the ledge before I went with it, face first.

With a loud sob of relief, I began to maneuver my body for a safer, feet-first landing and steeling myself for the drop. I had just barely managed to situate myself near the frame when the door flung open, hanging brokenly, only attached to the wall by half a hinge.

"_Don't you fucking run away again!" _Burt Hummel shouted furiously, storming through my bedroom and towards my position at the window. I let out a petrified sound that was half a sob and half a yell, just about to fling myself out the window, ready or not.

Burt latched onto my elbow, tugging me violently backwards and into the room, away from my only chance of escape, my only chance of _life._

He tossed me to the ground and wasted no time before he was pummeling every inch of me he could reach. My face, my chest, my arms, everywhere. I struggled, trying with all the fight left in me to get out, to get away as I screamed right back at him.

"You're _vermin! _You're _nothing_ more than _vermin_!" He bellowed.

A tear slipped down my cheek, but it wasn't from any sort of physical pain. The ongoing, never ending physical pain. It had all reached a peak, and now I was only numb, barely there as my body was beaten by the only man who had ever loved me.

I couldn't fight anymore. I could only scream and sob as my body was battered beyond my control.

"You're _nothing!_" My father continued to screech as he flung me against the vanity, shattering the glass of the mirror. "You are _nothing _to me and _never _will be!"

I sucked in a breath, only to let it out with a pained moan as the wind was knocked out of my lungs. He continued to scream at me, incessantly tossing out words that cut deeper than the physical pain, more than any and all of the beatings he's ever given me put together.

"You're not my son." He growled, rattling me against the wall. "I didn't raise my boy to become a disgusting _queer." _

I did everything I could to tune him out; squeezing my eyes shut and screaming, fighting back, even going as far as focusing on the physical just to drown it all out. It was all too much. I didn't think I could take any more; my throat was raw and burning from the force of my sobs and screams, my body pulsed in agony with every breath and heartbeat, every thought I had turning against me.

And then he stopped.

Dropped me straight to the floor.

I thought he was I done. Foolishly, I thought it was all over.

He crouched down beside me and my cries of distress and dread increasing with his proximity. He launched into a sort of monologue, a horrible, soul-crushing monologue, deteriorating every once of self worth or willpower I had left in me with every word.

"You represent everything bad in my life," He started out, his warm, rancid breath washing over my face. "Everything was perfect until you came along. No, that's not right." He corrected himself nonchalantly, as if he was discussing the weather with a coworker. "My life was perfect until you chose this _disgusting _lifestyle. I had the perfect job, the perfect wife, the perfect family. The _perfect_ life."

My breath hitched. _He brought Mom into this. _I sobbed harshly, brokenly, my entire body shaking and rocking with the force as I cried out, "No, no, _no, no_!" Hardly able to breathe, I could do nothing but cry, cry harder than I had even thought possible as my entire world came crashing down around me.

"Elizabeth was beautiful. She was my _world._" He said, but instead of sounding sad, he only sounded furious and spiteful. "Then you came along, and I couldn't have asked for anything more. I really had _everything."_

No, no, I couldn't lie here and listen to this. I couldn't hear how happy he was, how _perfect_ his—our—life was, not when it hasn't been any semblance of right in so long. Not when it all fell apart because of _me._

"And then you," he said, his voice quiet but simmering with something dark underneath. "If you were _normal, _if you were the son I've always wanted, _she'd still fucking be alive!"_

I wanted to die. Right then and there, with those words, my soul, my heart was annihilated, shattered beyond repair. I couldn't breathe; each breath took too much effort to only catch and lodge in my tear-clogged throat. Everything he said was true, painfully true, and I couldn't bear to have it all thrown at me at once.

And then finally, mercifully, the numbing blackness pulled me under.

* * *

It was odd.

Strange, waking up in a place that was so comfortingly familiar and safe, yet covered with traces and memories of the dark and brooding secrets.

My bed, my safe haven where I could sleep off a bad day, or wake up sick only to find my mother or Burt there with a cup of soup, sitting on the corner and petting my hair, was now splattered with droplets of vivid red. The sheets and comforter lie crumbled and askew, hinting at a former struggle.

My vanity, always so precariously organized with never a single bottle out of place now hardly stands, sprinkled with shards of broken glass and stained with not only products and powders but the liquid of life itself.

I lie unmoving on the carpet, waiting for the numbness to retract from my limbs, from my mind. For my senses to snap back into reality. Instead they zoned in on my nearest surroundings, the deep, rust colored stains holding my attention as memories of its origin flashed behind my eyes. A light, almost airless sigh left my lips as my eyes traced the outline of the indefinable shape, seeing the color contrast brilliantly with the pale tone of my carpeting. The stains were darker, heavier in some places and lighter, small spots in others.

I still couldn't feel my body, my limbs, not really. But I now had a sense of where they were, instead of just being a disjointed and disoriented collection of thoughts. I decided I should try to move, starting with the most insignificant thing. My eyes follow the length of my arm, settling on my fingers as they twitched almost unnoticeably, watching and waiting for them to respond to my wishes and clench.

I had still hardly moved from my sprawled position on the floor of my bedroom, not knowing exactly how well my body could handle movement at the moment. But the rational part of my brain had begun to awaken and speak up, telling me that I _was_ alive, and not dead, and was under the mercy of adrenaline. I had to move, to do something, while the pain was dulled and bearable.

Even through the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the next few minutes were enough to make me never want to move again. Every movement, each motion sent up flares of white-hot pain and dots in my vision. Somehow, I managed to lift my torso. I figured I should try walking, and slowly pulled myself along the floor a few inches so I could grab onto the bed and haul my body upwards. I could just barely get my legs under me. I hissed and my breath hitched with the struggle.

_Okay, okay… stand. Go. Now. Stand. _I thought to myself constantly. With my internal encouragements, I settled my legs beneath me and started to stand, only for my left leg to give out beneath me.

I screamed as my leg throbbed tortuously. I shook my head and steeled myself for the worst few minutes of my life and began to make my way to the door, limping and leaning on anything and everything for support.

I collapsed into my car, breathing heavily and sweating. I wiped my hands across my face, and found that I was also crying, silently, tears streaming steadily down my cheeks. I couldn't tell if they were from pain or fear, but I didn't take the time to ponder and figure it out.

* * *

I pulled into the hospital in a thick fog, feeling as though I _definitely _should not have driven in my state. I stumbled drunkenly through the doors, covering my eyes against the sudden harsh light of the empty emergency room lobby.

A pretty young girl behind the desk was typing furiously on a computer, holding a phone between her shoulder and her ear. "Yes, sir, I'll do that. Okay. Thanks. Bye." She said with a few nods and a smile. I stumbled a few more steps into the room, my breath coming in short, staccato bursts and gasps.

She hung up the phone and turned to me. "Hello, how can I—oh, my god." She cut off suddenly, her eyes bugging out almost comically. I must have looked worse than I thought.

"Hello, I… I'm…" I slurred, bringing a hand up to my head. When did I lose my ability to speak? Why was the room spinning? What was my name again? Why was I here? My thoughts evaded me.

"Kurt Hummel." I finally said, almost unintelligibly, when the floor slanted underneath my feet, and the world began to slowly fade away.

Lights, faces, shapes, sounds… nothing.

* * *

_-:-Blaine-:-_

This was insane.

Mental.

Crazy.

I should not be so overcome with _worry _with this guy I've just met not two months ago. And though I can't deny how close we have gotten _and_ the perfectly plausible reasons for the worry, this was too much.

I couldn't even contain myself. I was pacing a rut into the floor of my dorm, glaring into space as my brain came up with every worst case scenario possible. What if Kurt had some weird, creepy parasite that would eat him from the inside out? What if he got in an accident because Mercedes let him drive himself home too soon? What if he's scared? Or lonely, or hurt, or miserable?

So when my phone vibrated harshly against the wood of my nightstand, I pounced. "Hello, Kurt, are you alright?" I said without thinking, trying to breathe normally and stop the sudden surge of panic that twisted in my gut.

"Is this Mr. Blaine Anderson?" An unfamiliar voice asked me. My shoulders sagged in disappointment, yet at the same time, my stomach clenched with apprehension.

"Yes." I said slowly. "What's wrong? Who is this? What's happened?" The questions spilled out of me.

"This is Maggie from the Lima Memorial Hospital. We had a Mr. Kurt Hummel come in here looking quite worse for wear," She said delicately. All the air rushed from my body. I leaned against the wall for support, my legs suddenly shaky. "He's been asking for you. Unconsciously, but asking nonetheless. "

"I'll be there in thirty minutes." I deadpanned, hanging up without waiting for a response.

I flew around my room, collecting the essentials and throwing them haphazardly into my pockets and rammed my shoes onto my feet. I flung the door closed behind me, all but running for the staircase before I heard voices calling after me.

"Whoa, Blaine, what's the deal?"

"No time!" I called over my shoulder, exiting the building and heading across the parking lot for my car.

"Blaine!" Jeff called again. Him, Nick, Wes and David were all running after me. I sighed, knowing I would have to talk to them, but didn't slow my stride.

"No time!" I said again. I felt someone grab onto my forearm, dragging me to a halt. I yanked my arm roughly out of their grip, and a fire suddenly burned in my gut. "No!" I yelled, spinning to face them. "I have to go, and I have to go _now!_" I don't know how I so suddenly lost any semblance of control, but all at once I was shaking and had tears pooling in my eyes.

"What the hell, Blaine? What's wrong?" Nick said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"It's Kurt." I whispered desperately. "It's Kurt, and he's in the hospital, asking for me and _I'm not there!_" My voice rose in desperation as I kept talking.

They stood there, stunned for a few seconds, and I was about to turn around and leave because there was _no time _when Wes finally spoke up. "Wait, the new kid? What's wrong?"

"I don't know!" I groaned, grabbing my head in my hands. "But he's _hurt _and _alone _because _I'm not there!_" I gave up on talking to them, on wasting time, and clambered swiftly into my car. I slammed the door shut, and heard two more doors close in quick procession.

I looked behind me to see Nick and Jeff sitting in my back seat. Before I could even ask, Jeff said, "We're coming with you. Drive!"

* * *

I flung the door open and only skidded to a stop when I had made it to the front desk. I didn't let the pretty young receptionist even get a word in. "Kurt Hummel." I demanded wildly. "Kurt Hummel, where is he?"

It was obvious in the way she handled the situation that she had encountered people like me before—frantic, panicky, maybe even slightly crazed. My breathing was harsh and my knuckles were white from the strength of my grip on the counter in front of me, most likely the only thing that was holding me up.

"Kurt Hummel… he's actually getting some tests done right now, and I'm not sure if he's even regained consciousness yet, either way."

All the breath left my body and tears sprung to my eyes. My panic levels rose, if that was even possible. "W-What?" was all I could manage.

She nodded and gave me a soft, comforting smile, though it did little to calm my buzzing nerves. "He came in here looking a bit… roughed up. Then he… well, he passed out, I guess. Right after he gave his name." She gave a little shrug.

I felt more than heard Nick and Jeff come up behind me. I ran a hand quickly through my ungelled curls, trying to calm myself to no avail. "What's wrong with him?" I all but cried.

She opened her mouth to speak, but paused. Something flashed behind her eyes, fleetingly, but it was gone before I could interpret what it meant. "He… there was so much blood." She whispered, meeting my eyes for only a second. "He looked completely wrecked, and I don't mean physically. There was something in his eyes…" She shook her head and surreptitiously swiped away a tear. "I don't think I've ever seen that much pure fear in a person's eyes before." She admitted breathlessly.

I couldn't get enough air to my lungs. My mind was in a frenzy; I couldn't even begin to tell you what I was thinking. My legs all but gave out on me, and I felt myself being pulled aside and gently shoved into a chair. "Breathe." Jeff instructed.

I did, and I felt control seep back into my body, ounce by ounce. The panic still stayed, lingering in my veins like ice, but I felt more grounded, solid, but no less worried.

The receptionist stood uncertainly in front of me. She stepped forward hesitantly, the muted tap of her shoes echoing in the nearly deserted lobby. She knelt down in front of me. "He's going to be fine." She told me with a passion in her voice. "It's not going to be easy and he is going to struggle, but he _will _be fine. Especially if he has someone like you to help him through.

"While everything I said was true, anyone can see that that boy is a _fighter._" My eyes prickled with tears as she continued. "With support from someone who cares, someone like _you,_ he can make it through. The only question is can _you _be there for him? Stand by him through the hard times? We here can help heal the physical. But _you _need to be the one to aid with the mental."

I drew in a deep, shaky breath and met her eyes. "I'd never leave him, not in a time like this." I paused, then whispered almost to myself, "I don't think I _can _leave him."

Her smile softened and she placed her tiny, delicate hand on top of mine. "Then don't."

* * *

The receptionist seemed to form a little attachment with us and our tiny group of weirdness and pent up anticipation. Her name was Larissa; her pretty name seemed to fit perfectly with her tiny, delicate frame and light, wispy golden hair. She talked to a colleague and got them to take over her shift just so she could take us to Kurt's room-to-be and wait with us.

I decided I liked her.

I was starting to feel a bit better, maybe a bit more optimistic and hopeful, but those feelings drained away when we stepped into the pristine white of the hospital room. Empty, dull. It seemed to suck the hope out of me; the various, high-tech machines, the immaculate bedding, the spotless floors, the scary stashes of medical equipment.

Everything just got real.

"Hey, hey, hey," Larissa sat next to me, placing a light hand on my shoulder. "Breathe. I know everything just kind of hit you at once, but once you get it through your mind that it's all here to _help_, you'll be fine. Breathe." She reiterated.

I did as she instructed, breathing evenly and directing my thoughts down a calmer, more logical path. It worked like a charm.

Not one minute passed when the door was opened and a tall man entered. "Hello, I'm Dr. Loury," He started, looking up at us. "Oh. Hello, Larissa." He added with a slight quirk of his head. She smiled.

"Anyways, I take it you three are here for Mr. Hummel?" We nodded. "They're bringing him down right now. We ran some tests, and while we can't know for sure until he regains consciousness, everything seems to be stable."

"He's not conscious yet?" I asked, my voice sounding smaller than I had expected.

The doctor shook his head sadly. "He should soon enough. His injuries were extensive, but not too serious. I predict a full recovery, should there be no complications."

Larissa smiled encouragingly at me, nodding her head and smiling. I smiled weakly back.

The door opened, and through it came a bed. I shot up from my chair, trying to see Kurt, to solidify that he was alright, that he was breathing, alive…

But before I could, the small team of doctors and nurses had swarmed the bed, hooking him up to various machines, monitors, and drips, recording his vitals on charts, and mumbling amongst themselves.

They all left, one by one, until only the doctor remained. I still hadn't moved forward; my eyes were widened in fear and anxiety, my limbs frozen to the spot. I couldn't look, I just _couldn't… _I couldn't bear to see him broken.

"As I said, extensive but not serious…" Dr. Loury read off a chart in his hands. _Left ankle broken, several cracked ribs, fractured collarbone, various and multiple bruising and lacerations, possibly a concussion. _The words floated through my head, increasing my panic yet thawing my limbs.

I took one slow, measured step towards the bed, my breath hitching unevenly. Another step. Another. Then the fear and longing took over and I was at his bedside, wanting to do nothing more than gather him into my arms, hug him, kiss him, _hold _him until it was all better.

But all I could do was stare, openmouthed. His frail frame looked even tinier, covered in bruises, bandages, and plaster. His skin, the skin that wasn't marred, was pale, creamy white. He had always been pale, but the stark white of the hospital sheets only washed him out further.

Tears filed my eyes as I saw his chest rise with his soft breaths. He just looked so small, so sad, even in sleep. His face was open, vulnerable. A tear made its way down my cheek as he snuffled slightly in sleep and let out a small sigh.

I reached a trembling hand out slowly, trailing careful fingers along his jaw, down his neck, his arm, lightly caressing his cold hand in my larger, warm one.

I gasped as I took in his face, not even peaceful in sleep, yet so beautiful. So tragically beautiful. I couldn't help but think that, even in his state, he was as breathtaking as an angel. I let out a shuddering breath. "Kurt."

He twitched a bit in his sleep, mumbling something I almost didn't catch. He turned his head towards me, his hand clenching mine with just the barest amount of pressure. He breathed out one word before falling into silent rest once more.

"Blaine."

* * *

**(A/N): This is one of those chapters that I may be awkwardly okay with. :/**

**One part even got deleted (Blaine's entire part at the hospital) and I had to rewrite it—that's happened before and rewritten pieces **_**always**_** feel off, but… this one didn't. It actually came out **_**better,**_** almost. **

**Also, whenever I typed "the doctor", I immediately pictured Matt Smith with his cute bow ties, suspenders (and maybe even the fez!), holding his sonic screwdriver and smiling at Klaine. XD Nerd worlds collide!**

**Anyways, reviews are like when you find the cookies and have the sneaky pleasure of eating the last one! :D**

**~DFTBA and Best Wishes!**


	10. Miracles in the Aftermath

**(A/N): Hello all! Back so soon? ;)**

**First things first. I got a beta! :D The wonderful **_**HPkitty **_**and I are now working together to make this story suck less! Hopefully, with her help, each chapter will be up to the standards of the last one—because apparently you all just **_**loved **_**that one. XD**

**Yeah, so the response was slightly overwhelming and definitely unexpected. But also not unwelcome. Thanks to all that read and alerted and favorited even more thanks to all who reviewed.**

**This chapter is short than the last one by like 1000 words… but it felt like a good place to stop and last chapter was a beast anyways. ;D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. :( Dammit.**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Miracles in the Aftermath**

-:-Kurt-:-

We were lying back on the bed, propped up by an overabundance of pillows and laughing. He turned towards me, blinding me with his bright smile. I turned on my side too, and we just stared. It wasn't awkward in the slightest; we knew each other so well, connected so deeply that words were hardly necessary anymore. We could share our feelings with a single glance. One look from those warm, twinkling eyes and my heart would melt, knowing he was thinking the same thing as I.

We sighed happily in unison. There was a beat of silence before we dissolved into giggles like teenage girls. The chuckles would peter off, almost dying out completely, before one of us would just start laughing again. It was an endless cycle of hilarity.

I curled a hand around my stomach as I just kept laughing. "Oww!" I said breathlessly. He only laughed harder and pulled me to his chest. "Ow…" I moaned again, my stomach protesting and begging for this outrageous laughing fit to come to an end.

"Aww, poor Kurtie!" He teased, holding me tightly and fighting off his own bubbles of laughter. I pouted, and a chortle burst past his lips.

Another five minutes or so went by, and we were breathing harshly, trying to get our breath back. "That was better than a workout," I announced, resting a hand against my abs as I breathed out slowly.

"I don't even remember what was so funny," He admitted as we settled back into our cuddle, more or less calm now.

I paused, searching my brain. "Me either," I admitted.

We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, simply reveling in the warm presence of another. I traced random patterns into his chest, rested my head against his shoulder. "What color are your eyes?" I asked, peeking up through my lashes and meeting his gaze.

"I don't know. People have given me too many different answers. What color are _yours_?"

"I don't know either."

"That's not an answer," He teased.

"Neither was yours," I pointed out.

"Touché."

Another pause.

We burst out laughing at the same second, our tender muscles protesting at being used again after the latest ordeal. I squiggled around in his arms, to where I was facing him, and giggling as I ran my fingers through his hair. He smiled happily, laughter dissolving to chuckles. His eyes were crinkled in the corners and he just looked _so cute _that I couldn't help myself—I leaned forward and connected our lips in a soft, chaste kiss.

"Hey kids, enough of that now," the door opened to reveal my father, smiling and happy. I blushed but my smile never faded. Life was good, right here and now, and I didn't want to move quite yet.

My dad looked at us cuddled on the bed with a soft, sweet look in his eyes. An image popped into my head from when I was younger, how my dad would stare at my mom with a look like that. Happy. Content. Peaceful.

He looked down and clapped his hands once. "Sorry to break this up, but I need to borrow Kurt for a second."

Blaine pouted adorably, and I couldn't help but press another kiss against those lips. "I'll be right back." I sighed dramatically, getting up with the slightest shimmy in my hips, and smirking back at the glazed over expression of my boyfriend as I stepped out of the room.

"What did you need, Dad?" I asked as I bounced off the last stair.

He mumbled something I couldn't understand, looking around for a second with a quiet "Hold on…" before snapping his fingers. "Damn it. Kurt, I gotta go grab something from upstairs. I'll be right back, you wait here, okay?"

I nodded and padded lightly into the kitchen, spinning around and spreading my arms as I hummed a song for the newest routine we learned in dance. I leaped and twirled, humming mindlessly along as I halfheartedly followed the learned motions. I stumbled a bit when I heard a loud thud from upstairs.

I froze. "Dad?" I called, some scary feeling crawling up my throat. I made my way quickly to the staircase, ascending it with a bit more caution and apprehension.

I stood looking out into the hallway for a minute and flinched violently when I heard another loud thud, then two more in quick procession along with a weak groan. "B-B-B—" I tried to say, but the name wouldn't make it past my trembling lips.

I ran the last few feet down the hall, spinning around wildly before I located the source of the noise—my room.

I shoved the door open, tensing at the sight that awaited me.

He sat cowering on the floor against the wall, tears steaming down his rapidly swelling cheeks as my dad hissed evil words into his ear with a vindictive sneer, punctuating it with a swift kick to the chest.

His breathless cry of pain and fear is what broke me out of my shock. "Daddy, what are you doing?" I screeched shrilly, bounding forwards and fighting to get between the two. Burt only shoved me roughly away and grabbed Blaine by the shoulders, rattling him like a dog with a new toy.

Something niggled me deep in my chest, in the recesses of my mind, and tears pooled in my eyes. Something didn't feel right. This wasn't right. _This wasn't right!_

"Daddy, no!" I yelled, hating how childish it sounded through my tears. He flung the beautiful boy harshly aside, and the hard, wet smack of his head connecting with the edge of my desk resounded loudly in my ears. "_No!_"

Burt advanced towards me, coming closer and closer until I was backed up against the wall, shivering and cowering in the face of a man I thought I knew.

"Why are you doing this? I thought you loved me!" I yelled, shoving roughly on his chest. "I love _him! _And hurting him is hurting_ me, _don't you care?"

He sneered. "You fucking fairies." My breath hitched, and that uncomfortable squirming in my mind and gut returned, tugging at something deep inside me that didn't quite connect. "You live this _disgusting _lifestyle—in _my_ house—and you expect me to be okay with it?" he laughed harshly, shoving me pointedly in the chest.

"Yes!" I screamed. "You're… you're my dad, you're supposed to _love _me, and everything I am!"

With a look of revulsion, he threw me top the ground and turned away. "How can I _love_" he spat out the word like it was physically painful, "you when everything about you is _wrong?"_

I let out a sob, a sob that resonated deep in my chest, making me hunch over with the force of it. "I had to show you this, to teach you," he continued fervently. He walked closer to where my love, my life, my _world_ lie motionless on the ground, a dark pool of crimson forming around his head.

"_NO!" _I yelled, running forward and trying in vain to pull him away.

"So I decided to do it in the one way I _knew _would work," he continued, kneeling down slowly to the floor. "This is what you deserve!" he yelled, his sudden force shocking me and causing tremors to wrack my frame. "This is what you will get if you choose this _horrid _way of living!"

A weak whimper sounded from the floor, and Burt rounded on him, immediately assaulting him with punches, kicks, and words.

Screaming, screaming, _screaming! _We were all screaming; my father words of hate, my love wordless sounds of agony, myself, one name, repeated helplessly over and over as I struggled to stop the assault, stop _everything _to get it back to the way it was, when we were all happy and in love.

I clawed at his back, his arms, anything to pull him away from the boy I loved. But he was too strong, much stronger than myself, and threw me off every time.

I never stopped screaming. None of us did. It was a symbolical symphony of everything bad and wrong in this world. And I could do nothing to stop it, nothing to stop the pain, the hate, the fear…

All I could do was scream his name.

"Blaine!"

* * *

"Kurt? Kurt, Kurt, come on, wake up! Kurt!"

I shot straight up in bed, fighting back tears and struggling to catch my breath. Shivers raised goose bumps through the cold sheen of sweat on my skin, and my eyes were squeezed shut as I hissed in breaths between clenched teeth. I fought back the images in my mind, fisting the blankets tightly in my hands and letting out a frustrated whimper.

"Kurt!" That voice called my name again. That sweet, sweet, honey-coated voice. I gasped in a sharp breath as something tugged at the corner of my mind. Something with a deep sense of foreboding. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, shaking my head, and holding back desperate noises. I didn't want to open my eyes. I didn't want to see my life crumble to bits right in front of my very eyes as I watched, helpless. I couldn't. A single, keening whine escaped me and panic swirled uncontrollably in my gut.

"Kurt, you're awake," the voice insisted gently, quietly, soothingly. "You're here, safe, with me. I won't hurt you," the voice was almost crooning. A warm, pleasant weight settled on my shoulder, feather light. It helped ground me, solidify some sort of reality, but it was still hard to fight through the heavy curtain of fog in my mind, covering every coherent thought I had.

"Shh, Kurtie. I'm here. Come here with me."

My breath hitched, and I fought to open my eyes against the fear and apprehension. They snapped open. "That's right. You're awake, and safe, see?" I struggled to focus, my eyes darting around frantically. I pushed down the rising panic in my stomach and blinked, hard. Once, twice, three times. My breathing was beginning to settle, my vision was clearing, slowly, like turning the knobs on a microscope.

The first thing I could make out was the blank, clean whiteness of the surrounding walls. I looked around a bit, seeing machines and uncomfortable looking plastic chairs and medical posters. "That's it," the voice spoke again.

I turned to it.

Blaine.

I let out a sob, a sob that resonated deep in my chest, making me hunch over with the force of it. _"I had to show you this, to teach you," he continued fervently. He walked closer to where my love, my life, my __**world**__ lie motionless on the ground, a dark pool of crimson forming around his head._

"Blaine!" I yell, seeing him in front of me, seemingly unharmed. Panic swirled in my brain and my stomach clenched. Blaine was hurt, and I'm only dreaming he's okay. I need to wake up fro this dream and _help him_! I lurch forward and grab his arm, ignoring the weak, muted protests of my own body. "Blaine, you're okay?" My hands run over his arms, across his face, carding through his hair. Tears stream down my face as my fingers run tenderly across the back of his skull, finding it unmarred and uninjured. "Are you? What's wrong, where are you hurt? Oh god, Blaine, I'm so—"

"Kurt!" He cut in, grabbing my hands and holding them tightly in his. He cupped my cheek and swiped at the tears with his thumb. "Lay down, you're going to hurt yourself more," I froze. What? No, I wasn't hurt, he was! He must have sensed my confusion, because he elaborated. "Kurt, _you're_ in the hospital, remember?"'

* * *

I stiffened underneath his hands. My mind was pulling up thoughts and memories and trying to piece together what was real and what was not. Everything was confused and muddled.

I huffed out a breath and he looked down at me. Blaine gently pushed my shoulders back so I was lying back down. "Please. Don't hurt yourself anymore."

I looked up at him, completely bewildered. "What—What happened?"

His eyes widened, "you don't remember? Everyone's just said that you walked in here, gave your name, and collapsed. We've been waiting for you to wake up to ask you the same thing."

My eyebrows creased in thought and confusion. Blaine settled back into his chair, keeping a careful eye on me but obviously keeping his distance. He wouldn't push me; somehow he knew this was something that needed to come on its own.

So I dove into my thoughts picking out things that couldn't be true. Blaine wasn't hurt. **I'm **in the hospital .That makes that whole thing… a dream?

I was simultaneously relieved, immensely saddened, and struck by panic. Relieved, because Blaine was fine and I didn't have to worry that he was hurt, and it was all my fault. It wasn't yet another thing to add to my conscience. My father didn't choose to _teach me a lesson_—I shuddered harshly at the thought—using the person I needed and relied on the most. The person I was almost certain I loved, deep inside my heart.

Saddened, because if all of that was true, if I was right and it was all a dream… then Blaine didn't love me. We weren't _dating; _we weren't _boyfriends _happily in love and acting silly on a night together. Blaine didn't care for me. No one cared for me. Once again, I was alone and left to be so for eternity. That dream… I would give anything for it to be reality. Not that I already haven't done so. I'm doing everything in my power to reach that perfection; perfection that I now knew would come with even more benefits. This dream opened my eyes; that life it has shown me is my ultimate goal, and with that in mind, it will be achieved.

Panicked, because the dream, the worst parts of the dream, were brought to the forefront of my mind, and I was forced to relive them, slowly, piece by piece. I fought them, fought the trembles and the shudders and the desperate calls for help. I shoved it away, _all of it_, and classified it as 'Not Real'.

But with it, along with that dream brought tidbits of repressed fear, repressed memories. Flashes of phantom pain erupted across my body, eliciting a hardly-masked gasp with each one. Visuals soon accompanied it, pictures and images of my father, his once-kind face twisted into a derisive sneer, or distorted as he spit his hate into my face. Echoes of sound, taunting, haunting words came last, bouncing around the inside of my mind tortuously.

_"You are **going** to fucking wish you were never **born **when I'm done with you!"_

_"You are **nothing** to me and **never **will be!"_

_"My life was perfect until you chose this **disgusting** lifestyle."_

_"If you were **normal,** if you were the son I've always wanted, **she'd still fucking be alive**!"_

My eyes flew open and I let out a strangled whine before snapping my eyes closed once more and turning my head away. Blaine had jumped up, looking at me with such concern in his eyes, concern I _didn't deserve_, and I couldn't deal with that on top of this.

It was my dad.

My own father had finally done his part and landed me in the hospital. Every time he's yelled at me, glared at me, beaten me, neglected me… everything he's done wrong by me played through my mind like a slideshow. I tried to shut it out, shut it out before it became too much and I just lost it. I tried to reinforce those mental walls, but it wasn't working. His rage-filled words still bounced around my head, and with one, desperate shout, I clapped my hands to my head and ended it all, blocked it out.

I let out a breath.

Now I just had to figure out how to deal with this. I kept my eyes closed as I let tiny bits of calmness flood my system.

I wondered how I could get out of this. It's not like I could just say "Oh, yeah, my dad beat me. Ha, oopsie!" They couldn't know. No one could know. If they did, if they found out too soon, it would derail everything. They could take Burt away, or take me away, and any chance of repairing our strained relationship would be torn to bits.

When I reopened my eyes, it was to a room with not just Blaine, but a small team of doctors and nurses, all observing me with a disarmingly critical eye. My heart jumped, and I flinched involuntarily when one reached their hand out towards me.

They all took a step back, for which I was thankful. I took a few seconds to breath, waiting for someone to make a move, or do _something_. Finally, the doctor spoke up. "Hello, Kurt. I'm Dr. Loury. Would you mind telling us what you remember?"

My brain whirred, trying to come up with something plausible on the spot. Averting my eyes, I whispered, "I-I was m-mugged."

Blaine made a sound in the back of his throat; it was sort of a pitiful whimper mixed with a rage-filled growl. It made me want to giggle, strangely. It _was _an odd noise.

"Could you describe to us your attacker?"

I shook my head. "Dark." I mumbled. "It was too dark."

The doctor pushed on. "Can you remember anything, _anything _significant about him? A scar, a limp, a tattoo?" I shook my head again.

He sighed, but continued questioning me. "Where did this happen?"

I thought on my feet, picking a street name that was usually deserted. "D.W. Seaton, almost at the corner of John's Drive."

He scribbled some words onto his clipboard. "What did they do to you? Just tell us as much as you remember."

My breathing already began to speed up, both from nerves and the lingering panic that delving into my mind would bring. Luckily, Blaine came to my rescue. "Do you really need to know the specifics? He's already lived it once; don't make him live it again."

Another sigh. "Fine," The doctor relented. "We're just going to check your vitals, Mr. Hummel, and I'm going to schedule a quick CT scan to make sure there are no injuries to your brain, alright?" I nodded wordlessly.

They all left, one by one, and soon it was just Blaine and I alone in the cold, sterile room.

We met each others eyes, searching. Just looking. My heart fluttered pleasantly in my chest when I realized, _Non-awkward. Just like the dream._

We sat in comfortable quiet once more. The constant, steady beeping of the heart monitor droned on in the background, and I could feel the pain medicine fading away with each movement.

Blaine cracked a smile small and moved his chair closer to the bed. Without breaking our gaze, he placed a hand gently on mine. My heart stuttered a beat, and it was made painfully obvious by the uneven, obnoxious beeping of the monitor. I blush crept its way up my cheeks.

Blaine's smile only widened and he chuckled, the sound sending butterflies aflutter in my stomach. I couldn't help the smile that crossed my lips either.

He squeezed my hand once as he looked down, gazing at our interlocked hands for a moment before he started to speak. "Kurt… You have _no idea _how worried I was."

I froze. He was _worried? _About _me? _Then something occurred to me. "H-How did you know I was here in the first place?"

It was Blaine's turn to blush, his cheeks darkening just the slightest, though his was accompanied with the tiniest of smiles. "They said you were asking for me when you were unconscious."

I felt my face heat up even more. _Oh god, that's so embarrassing! _"Wait…" I started, giving him a puzzled glance. "And you came? Just like that?"

"Of course," he said simply, that like that as the most obvious thing in the world. "I lo—y-you're my best friend. I really care about you, Kurt. A lot."

I didn't think I could blush anymore, but it sure felt like I did. My face must be the most unbecoming shade of red. But I shook my head. He shouldn't feel like this; I simply didn't deserve someone like him. Someone as perfect as him. All his love, all this _caring _should be directed somewhere more worthy. Not to me. I wanted to say all that. To tell him, make sure none o0f this valuable resource was wasted. But all that came out was "You haven't even known me that long, Blaine. Not long enough to care that much."

Blaine blushed and got this adorably flustered look on his face. He gripped my hand in both of his. "I _know_." He barked out a laugh. "I know that. And I can't explain it but Kurt you freaking _matter _to me more than I _ever_ thought you would. You just sort of weaseled your way into my life and—and well, you made it so much… _more. _I wouldn't have it any other way."

My heart skipped a beat, and then kicked it up a notch, speeding up just the smallest amount. What was he saying? Where was this going? What did he _mean? _He couldn't actually mean what I think he means, because that's not possible. He can't actually mean that he—

"And I don't know _why _you mean so much to me," Blaine cut me off. "I mean, I don't mind at all, in fact I kind of enjoy it, but at the same time it's confusing as hell. It's so, _so_ nice to have someone who _get's _me the way you do and just be there to talk to and be myself with. It's the best thing _ever."_

I didn't even know if Blaine was aware of what he was saying anymore. His mouth seemed to be on autopilot, just spilling out whatever thought he was having at that moment. His eyebrows were still creased and he just looked so _cute. _My heart fluttered in time with the crazed insects in my stomach. "You're getting at something, Blaine. _What_ are you getting at?" I said carefully, enjoying his cute little ramble but knowing there had to be a point.

"I love having you around and I love being around you," he admitted slowly, almost reluctantly. He seemed to be grabbing words and thoughts from his brain and haphazardly assembling them into coherent sentences to express what he had to say. After the initial sentence, though, the rest just spilled out. He held my hand tighter and looked deep into my eyes. "I love the way you smile and how it lights up your entire face, so it glows and you just look so _beautiful._" A shy smile graced my lips almost without me knowing. Blaine chuckled exasperatedly. "Yes, like _that. _And it just… takes my breath away sometimes."

My breath caught, almost delicately, in my throat. I could hardly believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. They couldn't be true; they _couldn't, _no matter how much I wanted them to.

Blaine just continued in a rush. "I love your hair and how it's always so perfectly styled. I love your eyes, and how they're that color that I can't describe and you won't tell me, and the way they sort of sparkle in the right light and how they twinkle when you get passionate about something," I blushed. "I love how you blush so damned easily, and it just makes you look so adorable I can hardly help myself. I love watching you dance, because you look so free and _lithe _and graceful and… and majestic and _hot _because you're all muscle and…"

My heart literally stopped for a second. Blaine thought I was _hot_? He thought… _that _about me, when I look as horrible and un-perfect as I do? As much as I wanted to stop him, make him see how wrong he was, something stirred deep in my gut and I wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss him.

"God, Kurt. I love your laugh because it sounds like music, I love your voice because it _is _music and… and I-I love how sarcastic you are, and how you can cut people to shreds with just your words, a-and how you're basically a _ninja_ and so charming and sweet and…" Blaine swallowed, and my eyes flitted to his lips, watching as they formed the next few words. "God _damn _it, Kurt, I love _you!" _

My jaw dropped when he said that, and all the air left my lungs at once. I couldn't believe it. I _refused _to believe it; it wasn't _possible. _Someone like him, someone filled with so much love and life and happiness couldn't love someone like me who hasn't truly known love for too many years, someone who has been so deprived of any sort of affection and doesn't have any clue about how to show it towards another person.

"You can't," I whispered.

Blaine was breathing hard, and clenched my hand even harder between both of his. "W-What?"

"You _can't _do that. I'm not worth it," I whispered, trying to hold back tears. It hurt to say that. It hurt _so much. _I _wanted _to be worth it. I wanted to be something to Blaine. I wanted _Blaine _so much it hurt. I don't think I've wanted anything more than I wanted him, but I couldn't in good conscience drag him down to my level, hold him back from all the greatness he could achieve. With _someone else._

"Kurt, you're more than worth it! You deserve s-someone to _love _you more than anyone," Blaine insisted, gently wiping away the tears that escaped from behind my closed eyelids.

And I wanted to believe him, to just give in and fall into his arms and let myself be happy for once. But I couldn't. "_You _are worth more than I could ever be," I said, hating the way my voice quivered with restraint. "You deserve _more _than someone so… someone like me."

"Kurt, I love you," Blaine said bluntly, yet softly. It was so contradicting yet so endearing and _sincere. _I could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at me… it just melted my heart.

"You don't _understand," _I argued.

"No, Kurt. _You _don't understand," He said, his voice filled with a strength and certainty I didn't know he possessed. "_You _don't see you the way I do. I care if… if you're broken or hurting or have some _baggage. _Everybody does! Now you just have me to help you deal with it all. Through it all, Kurt."

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe and my stomach was all fluttery and my hands were shaking and all this put together should feel like _shit _but it didn't, because I was reveling in every moment of it. Blaine just had this way of speaking that drew me in and made me want to believe every word that came out of his mouth, plausible or not. And I already desperately wanted to believe him.

But he wasn't done. **"Kurt, there is a moment when you say to yourself, 'Oh! There you are… I've been looking for you forever," Blaine took a deep breath, "and I can't specify exactly which moment it was for me, Kurt, because_ every single moment _we've spent together has felt like that. Kurt, no one makes me feel… as _right _as I do with you."

I hardly had time to process those words, because Blaine was slowly leaning towards me, his eyes alight with hope but also caution. His hand snaked around to softly cup my cheek, stroking tenderly with his thumb. He gave me the time to stop him, to push him away… and I knew I should. I knew I should but…

But I couldn't.

Blaine hesitated when he was right in front of me, close enough that I could count the different shades in his eyes. Our hot breaths mingled in the small space between our lips. He was _so close. _So close, that if I spoke, our lips would brush.

"I… I love you, too," I whispered, closing the minuscule distance between us and pressing our lips together in a sweet, slow kiss.

The heart monitor's beeping, which had gotten increasingly faster as Blaine's speech went on, stopped completely and droned a single, flat note.

Blaine pulled away, cracking a small smile and a giggle. I blushed to the roots of my hair, but couldn't fight off a shy smile of my own.

He ran his hand through my hair slowly, whispering, "Do you believe me now?"

I tentatively placed my shaking hand on top of his, the one that had returned to my cheek. "I want to," I breathed.

"Well," Blaine said, voice soft, as he leaned forward again, "I guess I have some more convincing to do."

* * *

**(A/N): QUESTION: Who else screamed FINALLY? XD**

**UGH it's about freaking time, am I right? I could not WAIT for this chapter, so that's why it typed itself in two sittings, one day. (1AM writing FTW!)**

**I hope you enjoyed it and the lovely progress our boys have made. But how will this change Kurt's mind? How will Kurt face his dad again? And what about dance? You'll have to wait and find out. ;)**

…**But not for like a week. I'm going on vacation. Sorry? :( At least I posted this though! **

**~DFTBA and Best Wishes!**


	11. Revelations and Confrontations

**(A/N): … Well, I'm not dead!**

**Yeah, I am so, **_**so **_**sorry for the long delay. I could put some of the blame, fairly, on life and school and business, but some can be put on my and writer's block and I'm sorry. :(**

**So besides the fact that this took for-freaking-ever,****I hope you enjoy it. You can thank my wonderful beta **_**HPKitty **_**for being amazing and patient throughout my bouts of falling off the earth, **_**AlyDuartsGleek **_**for aiding me with the amazing Santana moments, and **_**xXHopelessXxXRomanticXx **_**for wonderfully badgering and pestering me into writing. If it weren't for these wonderful peeps, you would not have this chapter as soon as you do (soon… ha).**

**On another note, this story has 75 reviews! That's like three quarters of a hundred! And that wonderful 75th reviewer is _The Songbirds Are Singing. _But it's also teh exact amount of reviews I've gotten from Dalton: Witnessed. So if I get at least one review... ;)  
But seriously. Not only to I want to surpass it, but getting to 100 reviews would just make my entire life. XD**

**OKAY! So I don't know how I feel about this chapter. I hope I don't just disappear and then magically reappear with a poopy chapter… but here you go! Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts. :)  
(I mean, my beta said, and I quote-I hope she doesn't mind this: "My heart is slowly being torn to pieces by your writing." So it may not be horrible after all! :D)**

**Disclaimer: No Glee ownage but OMGLEE GUYS SRSLY. GLEE IS BACK, BITCHES!**

* * *

_**Here's what you missed on In the Absence of Color**_

_After Burt's most brutal beating yet, Kurt has just gotten himself to the hospital in the nick of time. Blaine is there, waiting anxiously for him to awake so everyone can finally know what had happened, only for Kurt to awake from a nightmare, leaving him thinking that _Blaine _is the one in the hospital, not him. Blaine sets him straight and Kurt is left to figure out what is real and what is not._

_Once all the medical and physical things were taken care of, Blaine and Kurt were left alone in the hospital room, and Blaine finally took a chance. Through a medley of denials, uncertainties, and rambling speeches, two people were finally, magically brought together._

* * *

_He ran his hand through my hair slowly, whispering, "Do you believe me now?"_

_I tentatively placed my shaking hand on top of his, the one that had returned to my cheek. "I want to," I breathed._

"_Well," Blaine said, voice soft, as he leaned forward again. "I guess I have some more convincing to do." _

* * *

_-:-Blaine-:-_

When our lips met again, I slid my hand down to rest on Kurt's, gently, tenderly. I curled my fingers through his and brought it to my heart. I tried to do like they say in all the most romantic scenes in books. I tried to put all of myself and all my emotions into this one, languid kiss, so I could prove to Kurt that this was real.

I didn't know exactly how to do that, though. I wasn't sure how to convey that much emotion through one seemingly simple action. I tried, though. For Kurt. My thoughts focused on the sensations flooding through my body at every hesitant touch from Kurt, on the way I couldn't help but be happy when I was with him, on how my stomach fluttered every time he laughed or smiled. I thought about Kurt, about how beautiful and genuine he is, about how talented and humble, about how closed and guarded. I thought about how much I loved him, how crazy and scary it was that I loved him that much already, and how much I wanted to help him. How much I was willing to do, willing to give up to make it all better.

Kurt sighed a little into the kiss, breaking away slightly and nodding to the bed he was laying in. He painstakingly moved himself over to the left side, obviously repressing a grimace with each movement. I squeezed the hand I still held in mine. "Are you sure?"

He only nodded, gently pulling me down next to him. I clambered as gracefully as I could manage into the bed, settling myself next to him. There was a moment, just a single, fleeting moment, where Kurt and I stared right into each other's eyes, and it just felt _right. _There was no other way to explain it.

Just as Kurt had pulled me into another kiss, his hand resting on my jaw, the door flung open and was accompanied by a newly familiar voice.

"Hey Blaine, and Kurt if he's awake, I just thought I'd let you know that—oh."

Larissa stopped speaking when she saw our position; Kurt and I lying side by side in the tiny hospital bed, hardly any empty space between our two bodies, Kurt's hand gently cupping my cheek, our fingers intertwined, our lips but a breath apart.

We jumped apart. Well, I jumped away—and nearly tumbled to the floor. Kurt tried to move, but ending up just flinching, eyes wide in panic.

I don't know how I would have expected Larissa to react to a situation such as this. How she _did_ react, though, still shocked me. Her hands were clasped in front of her mouth, obviously covering a pleased and ecstatic smile. She bounced on her toes a little bit, and her shoulders shook slightly with repressed giggles. Oh yes, Larissa seemed very pleased with what she saw.

"I just thought I'd let you know the doctor will be back to take Kurt to his testing soon," she said, her face still split in a wide grin. "Just so you know. Get back to… what you were doing," she turned around with a wink, closing the door behind her. I couldn't help but smile myself, despite the confusion, when I heard her tinkling laugh and high-pitched squeal of happiness echo in the corridor.

We were both just staring at the door, expecting Dr. Loury to walk in as if on cue. When that didn't happen in the next minute or two, our gazes both flitted to each other, reconnecting at the exact same moment. A laugh bubbled its way out of my chest before I could stop it. Kurt cracked a shy smile, soon accompanying it with light chuckles, which shortly grew into laughs that caused his whole body to tremble.

I rested my head on his shoulder, fighting back my own chortles. Kurt hissed in a breath. "Ow," he said, clearly in pain but still laughing. When he noticed my skeptical look, he explained, "It hurts, it _really _hurts to laugh but it's still so damn funny for no apparent reason and that just makes it funnier." He shook his head, fighting back another laugh and wrapped an arm across his chest.

My eyebrows immediately furrowed in concern. "Oh god, Kurt, I didn't realize—I'm sorry, let me, um, c-call a nurse or something so we can get more pain medicine o-or something," I rambled, my hands fluttering around uselessly.

Kurt only cracked a small smile. "Blaine, calm down. I'm fine."

"I'm really getting tired of hearing that come out of your mouth," I breathed, "when we both know you're not."

Dr. Loury entered the room just then, hardly glancing up from his clipboard as he said, "Kurt, we're ready to take you to the scan now, if you are."

A few nurses walked in behind him, preparing Kurt to be moved. I noticed him repressing winces and gasps of pain, and I really wish he wouldn't. That's what nurses are here for; to make him feel better. Just as I was about to point out that it just may be time for more pain medicine, never mind the reaction of my boyfriend—was that what we were? I would have to remember to ask when this whole thing was done and over with—when Larissa (bless her) spoke up for me.

"Kurt, honey, your pain meds are all out. We'll get you some more after the scan."

Kurt just hissed in a breath and didn't meet her eyes.

The small group that had been working with Kurt headed with him out the door, and I was once again left alone in the sterile white room. I plopped into a nearby chair, very suddenly exhausted. This day had definitely taken a turn for the worst, and I couldn't wait until it was all behind me.

* * *

_-:-Kurt-:-_

I had foolishly thought that I was done dealing with things for today. Too many things have had to be "dealt with" lately, and I wanted nothing more than for this horrid day to end, hoping that the grass is, in fact, greener on the other side.

I had just been taken back to my room, settling back into the scratchy hospital sheets in hopes of catching a few hours of sleep before the nightmares struck once again.

Those hopes were immediately crushed when the door opened to reveal a group of teenagers, headed by a grudgingly familiar petite brunette. I held back a groan; this was _beyond _the last thing I wanted to deal with right now.

I didn't want them here. I didn't want their false concern or pity. I didn't want them to come in here, in front of Blaine, and pretend that everything is alright and that them giving a shit about me was as normal as the sunrise.

They flooded into the small room, forming a circle around my bed. Mercedes, Santana and Brittany shifted towards Blaine. Blaine glared at the two cheerleaders until Mercedes whispered something in his ear, and he nodded. The space was immediately filled with words I didn't want to hear.

"Oh god, Kurt, what happened?"

"Seriously, dude, are you alright?"

"Give me names, and I swear I'll bash in the faces of the people who did this."

"You must be terrified!"

"I feel so bad for you."

"You should have stayed at McKinley, Kurt. We could have looked after you."

I just blanched at them, annoyed and frankly put out by the sheer falseness of their words. "Seriously?" I asked, my tone dripping with disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Kurt, you're in the hospital! We're your friends, how could we not be worried?" Rachel said, stepping closer to my bedside. She reached for my hand, but I moved it away with an icy glare. On the other side of the bed, Brittany's delicate hand rested on top of mine.

"Oh, we're friends now, are we?" I said snidely, lacing my fingers with Brit's and squeezing.

Rachel blinked once, eyeing Brittany with confusion and a hint of disdain, "Well, of course, Kurt. Why would you—"

"Because if you were really my friends, you would have noticed how much of a living hell every moment in that damned school was for me, how badly I wanted out. You definitely don't have the best track record in terms of friendship," I said sarcastically, my mouth basically losing its filter. And at that moment, nothing seeming like a better idea than finally giving them a piece of my mind.

"There were times that I needed you," I admitted heatedly, reluctantly. "_So many_ times where I needed you. And you were _never _there. Through all the slushies, and the slurs, and the dumpster tosses and locker slams, you stood by and did _nothing. _You were _no _better than those low-lives who witnessed it. You were no better than the ones who _tortured _me _every single day_." I couldn't stop my voice from rising as I went on, despite the explosions of pain it caused.

"You never cared. You cared more about who was hooking up with whom and who cheated and who was cheated on. You never even spared me a single thought! I can't even count how many times I've come into that fucking choir room covered in bruises or limping or covered in ice and corn syrup and you hardly batted an eyelash," my voice came out in almost a monotone, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks and my fists clench at my side. I had to be cutting off the circulation to poor Brittany's hand, but she didn't seem to mind- or even notice.

My breaths were heaving as I got more and more worked up, more and more angry, and the stinging, throbbing pain in my ribs only spurred me on. "You don't have the fucking _right_ to walk in here and call yourselves my friends," I growled.

Rachel glared down at me, looking mad rather than ashamed. "Kurt, we were—are—all harassed! Each and every one of us! I know you're in the hospital and everything, but that doesn't give _you _the right to be even more attention-seeking than usual."

I let out a surprised huff of breath. I simply couldn't believe that words that were coming out of her mouth. Suddenly, when the tables are turned against her, it seems my being in the hospital isn't such a big deal after all. Rage simmered in deep in my gut, and I lurched forward in the bed, ignoring the bursts of pain, and all but screamed in her stupid face, "_Attention-seeking? _So now sexual assault and death threats are just pleas for pathetic attention? You know, Rachel, not everyone is as self-absorbed and conceited as you."

The room fell silent. It pleased me. I hope putting it harshly and bluntly, and all but shoving it in their faces would make these frauds see what was right in front of them.

"Kurt, that never happened—" Rachel started to protest, but her voice had the slightest tremble to it.

"Oh like hell it did!" I yelled. "Why else would I have finally transferred out of that shit hole?" I scoffed, plopping back into the pillows and musing aloud, "You know, I should be grateful for having fate completely against my happiness, because it finally gave me a legitimate reason to leave."

But Rachel was not one to be cowed easily, "I'm really sorry all that happened to you, Kurt, and I wish we had noticed so we could have helped you. But we were focusing on Sectionals, so it's only natural that some things slipped by the wayside."

"Oh," I laughed bitterly, "so Sectionals are more important than your 'friends'?"

As I had expected, Rachel immediately tried to defend herself. It was pathetic and I did _not _want to hear it. I was tired of them walking all over me. I slammed my hand down in the bed, bringing the room back into blessed silence.

"No."

"Pardon me?" Rachel said, her voice laced with snark.

"I am _done _listening to you spout off your pathetic excuses. You can't just walk in here and act like everything is okay. I _refuse_ to deal with it anymore." My insides were still boiling, but I was glad that my voice sounded firm, sure, and definitely angry. My heart was pounding in my chest and my breathing was harsh. No matter how much it hurt, I was _not_ about to back down now.

It seemed Blaine, ever the gentlemen, had noticed the heart monitor speed up, however. He cocked his head, silently asking me a question, and I almost imperceptibly lifted my chin in answer.

"Okay, everyone, I really think you should leave. Kurt really shouldn't be getting riled up like this," Blaine said diplomatically, letting his kind but firm gaze travel across the room.

Rachel stepped forward again, her fire rekindled. "And who are you to say so?" she challenged.

"A friend," he answered, only slightly hesitantly. I was both thankful and disappointed he didn't say we were _more _than friends. "A _real _friend."

"I highly doubt that," she said with a simpering smile. "Now, if you could just back off and let Kurt and I continue our conversation." I wanted to slap that overly condescending tone right of her smirking face.

"Rachel, back the _hell _off my boy," Mercedes snapped. Then, as an afterthought, she added, "And his boy."

"Stay _out _of this, Mercedes." Rachel waved her hand dismissively at Mercedes, treating her as if she was just a misbehaving child.

"Oh _hell _to the _no_!" Mercedes exclaimed, placing her hand next to Brittany's on my arm. "Listen here, little Miss Primadonna: _Kurt does not want you here. _Each of youhas been a half-ass friend, and frankly, he deserves better."

"Oh, like _you?_" Rachel asked with a sneer.

"Yes," I deadpanned, "Now, get the fuck out."

"Kurt!" Rachel gasped, her hand over her heart like I had seriously offended her. Like _I _was the one who had done something wrong.

"No, now," I insisted. "You do not get to just _waltz _in here and expect to make it all okay! There were very, _very _few of you who truly cared." Santana and Blaine both rested their hands on top of Mercedes and Brittany's, simultaneously giving me silent support and sending a big _fuck you _to the rest of the group. It gave me strength, and I powered on through the last of my tirade with a deep breath. "And now the rest of you are just taking _pity _on me. Well, guess what? That's _bullshit._" I glared at each of them in turn as I spat out the next few words. "You _don't _care, so don't pretend to."

I took a deep, cleansing, painful breath and smiled at them. "Now… Get. Out."

Looking properly chastised, the group headed towards the door. I couldn't help but feel the slightest bit guilty; each and every one of them looked like a kicked puppy, ears drooping and tails between their legs. _God, you're such a fuck-up, _I thought viciously. _You can't even stand up for yourself properly. You just make everyone around you feel worse to make yourself feel better. You're no better than the bullies you were ranting about._

I glanced up at a hand placed next to me on the bed.

"I wish I was a better person, Kurt," Tina whispered, her voice slightly choked and her eyes shimmering. "I knew something was wrong, but I… I didn't do anything. And I apologize for that."

She walked away quickly, winding her arms around Mike's waist as she met him at the door. He gave me a sad smile and a nod as they continued down the hall. I sighed, dropping my face into my hands and fighting back tears of my own.

Then a different voice spoke up.

"Despite how rude and out of line this… _tantrum _has been, Kurt, we would love to have you and your voice back in the New Directions when you come to your senses."

I stiffened. Seriously, leave it to Rachel to completely disregard anything she didn't want to hear. I was about to open my mouth to give her a second dose, but Santana beat me to it.

"You just don't get it, do you?Back the _fuck _off my boy before I make you," Santana took a threatening step forwards, the muscles in her arms flexing as she balled her hands into fists.

Rachel bristled defiantly, "I'm just letting Kurt know he has options for when he drops this unacceptable act."

"That is _it, _bitch!" Santana snarled, grabbing Rachel roughly by the shoulders and slamming her back into the wall, rattling the precariously hung picture frames. Despite her outburst and the unpredictable situation that was Santana's body pinning a whimpering Rachel against the wall, her next words came out calm and almost cajoling. "You really ought to shut that big mouth of yours before I rip out your useless, annoying, overused vocal chords and feed them to your ravenous, carnivorous ego."

I could only watch on, my heart beat speeding with anger, pride, and uncertainty. I didn't know what to feel about this; sure, I _loathed _Rachel and everything she says she, but I also don't think it's right for Santana to go all Lima Heights Adjacent on her, despite how much my sadistic side would enjoy it.

"Santana—" I started to interject.

"No, Kurtie." It was a contradicting image. Santana still had Rachel trapped against the wall with a forearm braced across her chest, but her voice was soft and kind. "I will not let her do this to you. You deserve way better, and until she gets that through her thick skull, she'll have to answer to me." Her voice grew louder and fiercer when she turned back to Rachel.

"Here's the deal, Hobbit. You have _no _fucking idea what Kurt is going through. Frankly, none of us do! You and your insensitive need to win and be the fucking center of attention need to back the hell off."

"I was just saying—" Rachel started to protest meekly, her fingers prying at the arm pressing her ever harder back into the wall.

"Hijo de tu pinche madre!" Santana exclaimed exasperatedly. "This puta just doesn't know when to stop! News flash, hell dwarf! There are actually things more important than you and your fucking show choir competition."

Rachel's face contorted in rage, and her fingers clawing more forcefully into Santana's arm. "Oh really?" she snarled, "Like what?"

Santana blanched. Mercedes looked like she was more than ready to cut a bitch, and even Brittany looked offended. "Oh I don't know, Kurt's fucking _life? _Do you really have your head that far up your ass that you can't see that you've taken this bitchy diva act way too far?" Santana scoffed, dropping her and clenching her fists at her sides. Rachel gasped in a breath as Santana growled, "You are the most _despicable _creature to ever disgrace this planet. You need to take a long look in the mirror and sort out your seriously fucked up priorities."

Rachel was speechless. Santana roughly grabbed her by the arm and ushered her towards the door. Rachel dug her heels into the ground, spinning around to face me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. I couldn't shake the feeling that those tears were nothing but lies. "Kurt, please, I'm s—"

"Ya no! Ya he terminado de tartar de lidiar con usted y su mierda vete a la mierda!" Santana hissed, shoving the now sobbing Rachel out the door. The slam of the door echoed throughout the room now bathed in silence.

My thoughts were conflicted. I was confused, and suddenly I was feeling everything at once: embarrassment from basically losing my mind in front Blaine, restlessness and indignation at my inability to do anything about everything, pure rage at Rachel and New Direction's falseness, desperation to stop Santana from finally going too far, fear at the realization that I would have to eventually go home to my father, disgust at the IV that was pumping calories into my veins, sadness at how I could only cause grief and problems between people, and—

A thumb swiped tears off my cheeks, tears I hadn't even realized were falling. I don't even know what I was crying about, exactly. I couldn't tell if it was one thing specifically or just from emotional overload and I couldn't grasp how I should cope. I looked into the eyes of the person who was now cupping my cheek. Blaine.

I dropped my gaze, my cheeks burning red and a few more tears slipping out. Those few tears soon turned into more, and more, coming faster and heavier, leaving me gasping for breath. I wasn't making a sound. I was silent, apart from those few ragged breaths. I didn't know what I was feeling. I didn't know what _to _feel. I'm not actually sure if I was feeling anything at all. I felt empty, stripped bare.

Then a warm, comforting weight settled into the bed next to me, curling gently into me. "I missed you, Dolphin," Brittany whispered, stroking the back of my hand with her thumb. "I was really worried about you. I thought you had gotten lost in the ocean. It's so big; I never would have found you again."

A tiny, half-laugh bubbled past my lips. I shook my head slowly, smiling softly down at her and she rested her head on my shoulder. "Sorry, Boo."

"She's right, Porcelain," Santana said, her voice snarky as usual, but softer, and said with a smile she reserved only for those she truly cared for. "There's this thing called 'keeping in touch'. You failed. Miserably."

I cringed. I know I should have talked to them, called them, responded to their texts, but more often than not I was either too emotionally or physically drained to deal with anything. I had spent most nights after my transfer to Dalton lying in bed, staring at the ceiling unmoving as my phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand.

"But," Santana said with a smirk, "that doesn't matter now, because we have connections. Meaning, we have someone who can pester you for us, free of charge." Santana sent a significant look at Blaine. He tried to look skeptical in return, his eyebrow quirked up and his mouth set in a firm line, but he couldn't keep his face straight.

"My apologies, Santana, but it seems that I may be a bit biased in the favor of your opposition."

My face split into a smile, and I held back a round of chuckles while I shook my head. "You are incorrigible," I whispered. Blaine just winked slyly.

Now that everything was done with, it seemed, my welcomed visitors settled into chairs around my bedside. I relaxed into the pillows and rested my cheek on the top of Brittany's head, breathing shallowly.

We sat there in semi-comfortable silence for a little while, and despite the flares of pain making themselves known from spots all across my body, I nearly drifted off. Then Santana spoke up, her voice soft, gently teasing, and sad, "Oh, Porcelain, who'd you piss off this time?"

I scoffed. "Do you need me to make you a list?" I asked, "It might take a while."

Santana frowned. She opened her mouth to say something, but Mercedes spoke up first. "Kurtie," she protested, "seriously… Are you alright?"

"I'm f—" My eyes flashed to Blaine, my mouth halting in the formation of the word. I blinked. "I'm okay," I continued, "really, Cedes. I'm good."

Mercedes scanned me, her face a perfect mask of skepticism. But fortunately for me—and unfortunately for her as well, I suppose—I had the 'all is good' face mastered. I could see her suspicion subside, her expression changing, the gears shifting with an almost audible _click._

Blaine, it seemed, could see right through my makeshift façade. He had this look in his eyes, like he was seeing right through me, tearing me open and seeing what lies at my very core—something I can't even seem to find myself. It was both disarming and overwhelmingly comforting; like I didn't have to carry the weight on my own, but I should.

"Kurtie?" Brittany whispered, poking my cheek. Santana, Mercedes, and Blaine were engaged in other conversation. Brittany shifted next to me, sitting up a bit straighter to look me in the eye. "Are you sure you're okay? You're acting a bit funny."

I stiffened slightly, but just readjusted my legs to cover it up. It seemed I was caught in one of her moments of quiet brilliance and awareness. "I-I'm as well as I could be, considering." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't a full truth, either. I was hoping it would at least get her to drop the subject. Something could get out if I wasn't careful.

"You're crazy. Truly insane," Blaine said with a laugh, causing Santana to grin.

"That's right, Frodo," Santana teased, "Clinically."

Blaine opened his mouth to retort, but a buzz from his pants pocket cut him off. He deftly extracted his phone from his pocket, glaring down at the screen although it had personally offended him. Which, as it seemed, it had.

He sighed, "That's my parents."

"Y-Your parents? I asked. The thought of him having people who worried about him, people who cared about where he was and when, had never occurred to me. Even worse, I had avoided at all costs thinking about the fact that he would have to _leave_. I would be stuck here in this hospital filled with dark pasts and pain and misery, with no one but myself. Without Blaine, who made everything better.

It scared me to think about how much I've come to depend on him, on his ray-of-sunshine personality and his ability to brighten my day and get me to smile, laugh even, on the darkest of days. He was my outlet, my confidant, my friend, my… possibly-more-than-friend, and he was a necessary part of my being. I needed him. And he was going.

"You're leaving?" My voice was despairingly soft. Too weak and too whiny and too _needy_.

He gave me a soft, reassuring smile. "Yes," he admitted, walking closer to my bedside and resting his hand on mine. "But I'll come back the minute they release me." I tried not to smile as he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "And even if they don't, I'll still be here. Promise."

I couldn't repress the smile this time. He started to lean towards me, just barely, but stopped. It almost looked like he had just twitched. His eyes glanced around at the girls, before flitting down to my lips and back to my eyes. I glanced at the girls, too, checking that they were so obviously not paying attention to us and very much involved in their own stimulating conversation.

He leaned in, pressing a soft, gentle, goodbye peck to my lips, but not pulling away. Unable to resist, I kissed him again, this one longer, more languid. I sighed happily into the kiss, loving the way his hand cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking in soothing circles.

It was as though he was sealing his promise with that kiss. Not just the promise of his return, but a promise to stay with me, make things better, see it all through. The kiss meant everything, things I couldn't even begin to understand through the Blaine-induced haze. I treasured that kiss.

When we finally parted, breathing a little deeper, Blaine whispered "I love you," into my ear. A warm, fuzzy, unfamiliar feeling stirred in my gut with those words, and I was too busy fighting the urge to smile and squeal like an idiotic pre-teen girl to fully form a response.

The soft taps of his shoes followed him out the door, trailing off and fading away down the hospital corridor until the click of the door closing cut it off, once again bathing the room in silence.

Silence.

"Get some!" Santana cheered. Brittany was jumping up and down and clapping—when had she left the bed?—and Mercedes was trying to look stoic and cross, but her wide grin betrayed her.

All three of them asked a question at once.

"Kurt! Why didn't you tell us?"

"When did this happen?"

"Is he a dolphin, too, Kurtie?"

"I didn't tell you because there was nothing to tell up until yesterday," I paused, "and yes Boo, he is a dolphin."

Another round of cheering filled the room, my cheeks flushing hot. It only worsened when the door swung open, revealing a still-smiling Larissa. "Pain meds, good sir?" she asked with a wink.

I smiled thankfully at her, releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding and relaxing muscles I didn't know I had tensed. I noticed how careful, how shallow my breathing was and felt it grow deeper as my body grew number and number, becoming lighter and limp as the meds took over.

"Wow, those work fast," I heard Mercedes' voice float to my ears, slightly muffled and distorted. I was just barely awake, sleep pulling at me fitfully, begging me to give in and let go, drop into its grasp. But I held on, trying to listen to the conversations still floating around me.

"Yeah, well, he needed them," Larissa whispered, her voice sad. "He's a trooper, this one. Maybe too much so."

"W-What do you mean?" Santana asked slowly, her forehead creasing in concern.

"He hides it. Masks it. The pain." Larissa explained, "The feelings."

A tangible sense of solemnity and sadness settled over the room. I didn't want to feel this. I didn't want to be the one causing this. I didn't want to be the reason, the source of everyone's worry and bad thoughts. I didn't want to be here, in this hospital because of my father, and I didn't want to have to work so hard to be perfect, through the pain and the sadness and the hurt. I didn't want to.

So I slept.

* * *

**(A/N): So… I would love to know what you thought! :D**

**So basically, Larissa is the captain of the Klaine ship in this verse. If my description wasn't accurate enough… she was **_**so **_**fangirling. XD**

**So, um… I got a Tumblr! Livinglifewithlotsoflove . tumblr . com if you're interested in following me. (yeah… hint hint) ;)**

… **I **_**know **_**I had other things to say in this, but I forgot. Does that happen to anyone else?**

**So I guess for now, that's it and stuff. See you next time? Hopefully a lot sooner? :O**

**~DFTBA and Best Wishes!**


	12. Home Sweet Home

**(A/N): Hello again!**

**I don't think the wait was as excruciatingly long as last time… right?**

**No, it was, and I apologize.**** I feel bad because this chapter has been sitting in my computer for a while and kept getting delayed. Like, I didn't have a lot of time to write it and when I did it was all stilted, and then the end of October had a lot of family over, and THEN I did NaNoWriMo (50,000 words in the month of November, I won!) so I had to write that, and then it was hard to find time to pre-edit this before emailing it to my wondrous beta, and then there was the time it took for said wonderful beta to beta it.  
On that note, I want all of you people's wondrous wondrousness (because seriously, people, so many alerts!) to send your love to _HPkitty _and all others affected by Hurricane Sandy. So because of the hurricane, the chapter never got edited so it may have mistakes that I'm sure I will be made aware of. ;P**

**Yeah. Thank you for all the alerts, favorites, and reviews during the wait, though! They made me want to write more. :P**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. If I did, THE EVENT'S IN "THE BREAK UP" WOULD NEVER HAVE EVER HAPPENED IN A MILLION YEARS BECAUSE THAT IS NOT ALLOWED TO EVER HAPPEN AGAIN. BUT THEN ALSO ALL THE ADORABLE KLAINE MOMENTS WERE LIKE FNERIFJUREOASD.**

* * *

A tangible_ sense of solemnity and sadness settled over the room. I didn't want to feel this. I didn't want to be the one causing this. I didn't want to be the reason, the source of everyone's worry and bad thoughts. I didn't want to be here, in this hospital because of my father, and I didn't want to have to work so hard to be perfect, through the pain and the sadness and the hurt. I didn't want to._

_So I slept._

* * *

_-:-Blaine-:-_

A sense of unease filled my chest as I made my way down the sterile halls of the hospital. What if I shouldn't have done that? What if he hadn't wanted them to know, at least not yet? We hadn't even talked it over ourselves, what if he really _didn't _want this?

Before I could fall too deeply into my mind, a familiar voice graced my ears. "Blaine?" Larissa asked, stopping next to me. "Are _you _going to be okay? Where are you headed to?"

"Me? Fine," I replied distractedly, giving her what I hoped passed for a normal, charming smile. I have a feeling it came out as more of a grimace. "Home," I added, softer, looking down at my shoes, "my parents want me home before it gets late."

Larissa nodded. She shifted a bag of something—something liquid and medicinal-looking—to her other arm so she could rest her small hand on my shoulder. "I'm taking this to Kurt right now," she said, gesturing to the aforementioned bag. "It's medicine. It should help him sleep, take the pain away. He won't even know you're gone."

I nodded, only slightly reassured. I didn't want to go home and fake a smile so my parents won't ask what's wrong. It's not that I thought they would be angry at me, at least not mom. But I didn't want them storming in on him, being as overbearing and overwhelming as they always have been, all big hearts and good intentions that didn't always come across in the right way.

It was something more, too, I guess. It was the fact that Kurt was something really special to me. Something that I treasured and cherished. Something that just meant so much, deep down, that you could hardly decide whether you wanted to show it to the world, yelling praise off the highest mountaintop, or hide it, keep it safely tucked away somewhere where no one could find it, so it's your special thing, unable to be tarnished or stolen by others.

I realized I was thinking too much again. I blinked, looking up at Larissa's eyes, wide with concern. I still didn't want to leave Kurt, whether or not my parents liked it. But I had no choice. So I gave Larissa a tight hug, whispering my thanks and hoping I'd erased some of her fears. She didn't need to be worrying about me when Kurt was in the state he was.

Sighing, I climbed into my car and tried to make a final, logical decision on what to tell my parents. At least, that's what I told myself I was going to spend the car ride doing. Instead, I spent it worrying profusely about Kurt and how he could be missing me and all alone and if he was in pain and no one knew about it or if he was having another nightmare or—

My thoughts ended abruptly at the tapping on my window. "Blaine? You've been just sitting there for a while; your father was getting worried." It was my mother.

I slowly climbed out of the car, keeping my eyes downcast so she wouldn't immediately be able to tell something was wrong. I haven't made up my mind just yet; I had no plan. My eyes stayed strictly on the fading, worn pavement, the fading green of the grass, the crisp white of her shoes—anything to avoid meeting her eyes.

Obviously, my doing this only drew attention to it rather than hiding it. "Blaine?" she said, her voice immediately filling with concern, her hands pulling me into the house. "What's wrong?"

We sat down in the living room as I tried to gather my thoughts and form them into coherent words. By that time, my father had joined us. "It's Kurt," I finally admitted.

(LINE)

_-:-Kurt-:-_

The first time I woke up could hardly be considered "waking up". The last remnants of my nightmare—or was it a memory?—had begun to fade before the blurred shapes of the hospital room could fully come back into focus. I was still exhausted; it felt like I hadn't gotten any sleep at all. I let my eyes flutter closed again, hoping for a few more hours of restful peace.

The second time I woke up was sharper, more shocking. I sat straight up in bed, pain radiating from what felt like my entire body as I panted and rubbed my hands over my face. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay. Safe. Safe, safe, you're safe," I told myself frantically, desperately, squeezing my eyes shut against the onslaught of phantom images and words. I fought to regain control of my breathing, reign it back in from panicky and erratic to calm and normal. I tangled my hands in my hair out of frustration, aggravated that I couldn't even control something as easy and natural as _breathing_.

"God _damn _it!" I hissed, hunching forward against the pain in my ribs, doing nothing but making breathing even more difficult. I couldn't take it, it was just too much. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to explode, but I could do nothing but flounder for air and control. I couldn't move, I couldn't think, I couldn't function. I _couldn't._

A pitiful, breathless sort of whimper burst past my lips, tremors shaking my body. My thoughts were tugged inwards, filled with harsh, spitting words, hate, and degradation. I barely registered the opening of the hospital room door. "Kurt?" The words floated to my ears, muted and distorted. Gentle hands rested on my arms, and I instinctively flinched away. Those weren't mean hands, but they also weren't Blaine's hands; they were too small, too soft and light and smooth. I wanted Blaine. Where was Blaine? Suddenly, the hands left, but I could still feel the person's presence. More words were spoken. "Kurt, it's Larissa. Can you try to breathe for me? If you calm down a bit, focus on me, I promise everything will be okay."

It took a few seconds for me to make sense of the words, searching for their meanings through the cloud of _oh my god oh my god oh my_ _god_ in my head. Once that was accomplished, it seemed like I had grabbed hold of something, found a sort of foundation, though the gaping pit in my stomach screaming for no one but Blaine remained. Still, the panic slowly began to ebb from my system.

"There you go," she said gently. "See? It's all okay."

I nodded, slumping back against the pillows. I wanted to curl up in a tiny, insignificant ball and let a black hole swallow me up. I was mortified. I was disgusted. I was _ashamed. _I felt so worthless, so unnecessary and problematic that I almost lost my breath again. I hated myself for being so weak. I hated how a stupid dream had pulled me apart completely. I hated that Larissa had witnessed it.

My thoughts must have shown on my face, because Larissa spoke up again. "Kurt, it's fine. People have panic attacks here all the time, especially after situations like yours. It's completely normal and nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of, alright?" Her tone was kind, soothing, but it only filled my gut with more revulsion. "Get some sleep, alright?" Her voice was gentle, and sleep was already calling, persuading me to slip gently back into its arms, so I really had no choice but to give in.

The third and final time I woke up was gradual and peaceful instead of jarring and panic-stricken. It's like I was gently lulled awake, but just so that my eyes still didn't have the willpower to open. I was warm and calm, and I knew the second I moved or opened my eyes I would lose it, so I snuggled a little bit more into my pillow, squeezing my arms around it tighter. I felt safe.

I settled my head into the pillow at a more comfortable angle. I had almost drifted off again when I noticed my pillow was… moving. _Breathing. _An irrational surge of panic washed over me, but I kept up my façade of sleep and slowly, cautiously, opened my eyes. I tried to make sense of what my slightly sleep-blurred vision was telling me I was seeing.

To try to confirm this, I paid more attention to my pillow-substitute. It was warm, yes, but it wasn't soft. It was firm, the good kind of firm—the kind that's all muscle, skin and hard body. And yes, this body was breathing. The shirt this person was wearing was soft, yet slightly scratchy. It felt like home. I breathed in slowly—

_Blaine._

My eyes flew open and I shoved up from his chest reluctantly. The second I did, though, I regretted it. Not just because it hurt—because it hurt like _hell_—but because I immediately missed the warmth and safety. I cleared my throat. "I-I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling a blush creeping up my cheeks.

Blaine just smiled at me, sitting up from his lounging position. "Kurt, really, it's no problem. It was… nice." Now it was his turn to blush. Blaine looked down at his lap, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then those hazel eyes turned to mine. "Besides, I heard you've had a rough night, and I thought that… you know, maybe I could… um, you know. Help." His confidence seemed to waver as he went on, but my smile only grew.

"Blaine," I could stop the giggle from coming out. "It's fine. It was… nice. Really nice." I was blushing again, but it didn't matter because I was smiling, too. "It did. Help, I mean."

His smile warmed me all the way to the tips of my toes. I could just feel my heart melt inside my chest. I was still smiling and I felt like I would never be able to stop. It was a great feeling. Odd, unfamiliar, but great.

Blaine pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Come on, sleepyhead. They've just got to do a few more tests and such and then you can go home."

The smile slipped off my face.

Home.

The realization hit me so suddenly, so forcefully that it was as if it stripped everything else away and the only thing I was aware of was emptiness and fear. Home. I had to go _home_. Home to my father after all he'd done to land me here in the first place. Home, where it seems every drop of life, any sign of vitality was sucked out, leaving me as this empty shell.

Home, where he may try to finish what he'd started.

I must have zoned out, because I soon noticed Blaine had an increasingly concerned expression on his beautiful face. "Kurt?" he asked tentatively, lightly placing his hand on my thigh and squeezing. I flinched away violently, disgust and mortification broiling deep in the pit of my stomach. He must have felt it, he _must _have. My thighs were huge; fatty and squishy and just plain disgusting. I could remember all those hours I spent in front of the mirror, rolling the fat between my fingers, counting calories and cutting meals.

Just moments afterwards, though, the revulsion morphed into shame and regret. "B-Blaine, I'm so sorry, I-I didn't mean—"

"No, Kurt. It's fine," he said, giving me a soft, reassuring smile. And I believed him. I believed him because that smile could convince me of anything. But the sadness was unable to be masked, especially in eyes as expressive as his; eyes that were like crystal-clear glass windows straight through to the soul. Tears stung in my eyes, and I tried uselessly to blink them away. Ashamedly, they traveled in rivulets down my cheeks.

"No, no, no," he cooed gently, swiping them away with his thumb. "Really, Kurt, I understand. Something really bad happened to you; something I can't even begin to comprehend. I _know _this isn't going to be easy, and I knew you'd be jumpy. I just got ahead of myself. Really, it was my fault—"

"It is in absolutely no way your fault! It's all me. You're one of the only people I actually care about—"

"Kurt, stop," he tried, clasping my hand.

"—and I flinched away like you're my d—like you're one of those scumbags that did this to me!" I blushed as I tripped over my words, rambling on in hopes that it would be forgotten.

"Kurt, no really—"

"That isn't right or fair to you! I love you and I can't even show that because—"

"_Kurt!" _Blaine raised his voice, firmly but with a hint of laughter and the beginnings of a smile. He squeezed my hand as he continued, "Okay, okay. It wasn't either of our faults." He held up a hand to stop me from protesting. "Let me finish. But I still love you. How could I not love you, just because something bad happened and you're just beginning to deal with it? What kind of person would I be if I did that?" I cringed; I knew plenty of people like that. I looked down at our hands.

After a beat of silence, I peeked up at him. Only once I met his eyes did he say, "I will _never _say goodbye to you."

He leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. It hardly lasted more than five seconds, but I pulled away feeling lightheaded and flushed. I looked straight into his eyes, searching, and I could see nothing but admiration and love and wonder.

It confused me. How could that—something so glorious and awe-inspiring—be directed towards me? I was not worth that amount of emotion. Someone much better, much more perfect, deserved all of Blaine's love and affection. There were plenty of people like that who would kill to be with someone like Blaine.

He made me feel loved. He made me feel like I belonged. He made me forget that my life was in shambles. He made me see that there still are beautiful people in this world. He made me realize that you can find true love with your one special person. He made me feel the closest I have ever felt to perfect.

But I didn't deserve any of it.

Yet at the same time, I could not just give it all up. It meant too much to me for that. Does that make me selfish? Of course it does. But I could not give Blaine up any more than I could stop the Earth from turning. I was so dependent on him and all that he is; so much so that I knew I couldn't make it through my days without him. Darker, harder, harsher, longer.

I don't know what my face showed, or how much of what I was thinking had been revealed, but Blaine had obviously seen _something_. "Kurt?" he started to ask, leaning closer, "are you sure you're—"

"Okay, lovebirds!" Larissa said cajolingly as she entered the room. "Put the wild and crazy declarations of love, heartfelt speeches, and tender kisses on pause for a moment, we've got some work to do!"

I blushed; I could feel the heat spread all the way up to my hairline and down my neck. Blaine just cracked a fond smile. "Okay, Larissa, we get it," he teased, then turned back to me. "Kurt, she's right. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can go home and relax."

'_Relax' isn't quite the right word, _I thought, looking away. But there wasn't much of anything I could do, was there? I had to endure these final few things that the doctors had decided to do to me, only to go back to where it all happened, not really even knowing what awaited me.

I did nothing more but sit there through every test, check or question they could possibly think of. I was numb. It was like I had become cyclically immune to feelings of panic and dread, and in place of them was just nothingness. I didn't know if I wanted my stay here at the hospital to last for eternity, keeping me safe and away from the destructive hands of my father, or to end as soon as possible, freeing me from this metallic and medicinal misery.

Time seemed to drag and race by all at once. It was like time itself was undecided, too. Every time I glanced at the clock, my feelings changed. One minute goes by and I'm itching to get out. Ten, and I'm mentally begging them to slow down or think of something else that they forgot to check or record.

In time, though, it seemed I was deemed ready to go. I sat on my bed to wait as they retrieved a wheelchair to take me out of the hospital. I examined the black plaster on my leg, smiling at the lone signature that contrasted against the darkness in bright, metallic silver. I remember what Blaine had said earlier: "I told them black because I figured it would match with anything you wore on the weekends and be mostly hidden by the uniform, anyways. Plus, you can have people sign it in this really cool silver Sharpie!" of which he then produced from his bag. He had gently propped my leg up on his knee, smiling softly as he elegantly wrote his name, the letters large and loopy. I remember laughing when he carefully colored in the heart he had drawn next to it.

I absentmindedly ran my hand across my ribs and shoulders, feeling the odd textures of the bandages that encased them. My hand trailed lower, ghosting over my stomach briefly so no one could notice.

_God._

How long had it been since I'd last exercised? Two, three days, and I had already gained all this weight back? Everything was ruined. All my hard work, tarnished because of _him._

But I was doing this _for _him; why would he want to ruin it? Why would he try to stop me from reaching my goal when it would ultimately make everything better? Didn't he want things to improve? It seemed very obvious to me that he did. Why else would he be so hard on me, other than to persuade me to do my best? Was this _not _what he wanted?

That thought was quickly dismissed when Larissa arrived with the wheelchair, a bright smile on her face. "In you go," she murmured as she guided me into the chair. I hobbled awkwardly across the short amount of space between the bed and the chair, wincing as pain shot up my leg. The doctor had put a boot on my cast so I would be able to walk; he had, however, warned me not to overexert myself and given me crutches to use for the majority of the days. I would be careful, but I also would have to push it a little. I needed to regain the muscle and more importantly the _use_ of my leg before my dance recital. It was coming up quickly, and the Hawk is already preparing to murder me on account of this new and improved setback.

I hardly remember the trip to the car; I faintly remember wanting to push myself to at least burn off some of the calories they had forced into me, but Blaine had immediately stopped me, claiming it would irritate my collarbone and ribs.

I sighed and relented because, knowing him, as loving as caring as he may be, he would not let it go. I hadn't realized, however, that the next option in line would be for _him _to push me.

Now that was just plain horrible for a multitude of reasons, the first and foremost being _me. _He couldn't push this chair, I was way too heavy. I didn't need him to be straining and panting for all the wrong reasons. I didn't want him to realize how huge and disgusting I really was. He would finally notice how wrong he has been, calling me hot and lean and graceful, and would leave me right here in this damn parking lot because he would be too embarrassed to be seen with me any longer.

The other main reason also fell to me. I didn't need to be taken care of. I didn't need to rely on other people. I was perfectly capable and independent. Well, I was working on it, at least. It was something my father wanted me to do: act like a man. And so I would, if only Blaine would let me. Does he not realize? Does he try to unhinge my plans, all my hard work? Is he doing it unknowingly? My heartbeat sped up a little bit when I realized I could have just fallen for the sickest of jokes. What if—

My thoughts screeched to a halt when I started moving against my will. "No!" I choked out before I could stop myself. I quickly looked over my shoulder, seeing it was Blaine. I didn't know what to do—did I stop him, protest, cover up my outburst?—but before I could really think of any reasonable reaction, Blaine was hunched over a bit so his mouth was by my ear. "Calm down, love. I'll make sure you're safe," he said in a conspiratorial whisper, his hot breath tickling my neck and making me shudder.

A flush burned underneath my skin; _love. _He called me "love". Any doubts that lingered in my mind, taunting and haunting me, evaporated with that one word, said with such subtle, yet obvious, conviction and care. The soft kindness of his voice and the crafting of the word… how could one dispute? Nothing could ever be said with more truth. I looked once again over my shoulder, seeing that same conviction and that same truth reflected in those dazzling eyes.

The sight of his eyes, the eyes I still couldn't properly describe, brought up something I had earlier classified as Not Real. But, with a stroke of confidence, I decided Icould _make_ it real. "What color are your eyes?" The question came out softer, more tentative and hesitant than I had wanted, but the sparkling smile it elicited was worth the brief moment of terror and regret.

"I'm not sure, really. Hazel, I guess? That's what I've been told. What about yours? I've been wondering that since that first day in the dance studio."

I smiled, taking a moment to stall and imagine. _Hazel. _What could that look like? From what I could see, it made the most dazzling and warm shade of gray I've ever had the luck to see. Hazel _sounded _like a warm color. Warm and soft and sparkling. Was it a blue? It looked lighter and softer, cooler; the kind of shades I associated with purples and blues and greens. Or was it browner, earthy, sun-touched? I knew there were hazelnuts. Was it that sort of color? I didn't know. All I did know was that I loved it.

Then it occurred to me that I needed to answer his question. "Um, well, I'm not really sure either," I said, really just procrastinating. What had Mercedes told me? Santana, Brittany? I couldn't recall exactly how they'd explained it. Blue? I would feel really stupid if I were wrong. "I haven't really looked in a while. What do you think?" I deflected, hoping he would fall for it.

I don't know if I fooled him, because there was a momentary pause in the conversation, as we had arrived at his car. "In you go," he chirped.

"What?" I asked, bewildered. "No, I can't leave my car here, Blaine. I'm fine to drive home."

He sighed. "Kurt…"

I tried not to sound too defensive or irritated. "Blaine, I am _not_ a poor, injured, defenseless child. I can take care of myself. Really, I can manage the drive."

Blaine looked up, his face scrunched—rather adorably—in thought, as though he was internally debating, or trying to come up with excuses. "Fine," he said, looking me in the eye, "if you let me follow you home. Just so I know you're okay and got there safely," he added quickly when I tried to protest.

I was feeling conflicted; I was very touched and very happy that he apparently cared so much for me. But at the same time, there was so much I was hiding, so much he couldn't know, that the more time he spent near or at my house, or even around me in general, could endanger not only him but all the hard work and effort I've put into the rehabilitation of my relationship with my father.

I was snapped out of my thoughts yet again, leaving me surprised and bewildered about how I had arrived at my car so suddenly.

"…Kurt?" Blaine asked, a light chuckle coloring his tone. "Did I lose you there for a second?"

I forced a laugh along with him. "Yeah, I guess. Sorry."

"Are you s—" he started to ask, those adorable triangular eyebrows creased in concern.

"Yes, Blaine, I'm completely sure," I answered lightly with a tight smile. I was fine. I was. Really.

With a little bit of awkward shuffling and gentle-handed assistance, I was settled into the driver's seat of my Navigator. I sat there for a second, just sitting and thinking and feeling. I don't know why. I don't know why I felt like I needed that moment of silence and nothing, but something seemed to settle in my mind.

Was I trying to calm myself? Was the panic already getting back to me? I wouldn't, couldn't, let that happen. I needed to be strong. I needed to be a man. And to do that, I can't freak out over the slightest things, like sitting in my car ready to go home. I just can't.

Just as I reach for the keys, letting out a slow breath, I see Blaine out of the corner of my eye, standing a few feet back from my car, his lips slightly puckered and his gaze concentrated. When he had realized I had caught him, his eyes widened slightly. A laugh burst out of my stomach, unsuspected. Painful and unexpected, yet pleasant nonetheless. I rolled down the window, leaning out slightly and raising an eyebrow.

"See something you like?"

Immediately after it came out of my mouth, I regretted it. I slammed my mouth shut, my teeth connecting with a sharp _clack!_ My cheeks flamed and I dropped my gaze. _Shit, shit, shit! _I thought, _You shouldn't have said that, you dumbass! Now he's going to think you're even sluttier than you already are! God, can't you control yourself?_

But instead of looking appalled, disgusted, or even put-off like I'd expected, his soft lips were turned up into a smirk. "Yes, actually, I did."

I couldn't even form any words. Was this… flirting? I'd never flirted before. What was I supposed to say back? Was I supposed to be shy, catty, playful, witty, sultry? I don't know if I could do any of those things. I _didn't know _how to respond to such a blatant compliment. I've never really been given the chance to learn.

Cheeks still warm, I schooled my features into a soft smirk that matched his. It only widened as he stepped forward, right up against the car door, his face only inches from mine.

The words came out softer and more breathy than I had planned: "And you're just going to stand there and stare?"

He tilted his head to the side a bit. "Nah, you know me; always the activist," he whispered, his voice matching mine. He closed the tiny space between us with his lips, moving them gently against mine in a soft, warm embrace. I sighed slightly into the kiss, leaning at an awkward angle out of the car window in an effort to press closer. Suddenly, his hand was cupping my jaw, resting there for a second before slowly starting to trail down my neck towards my shoulder.

I pulled back with a soft gasp, worrying for a moment that his fingers would brush against the layers of fat that hung under my chin. Those thoughts dissipated in an instant, though, when I saw the soft smile and sparkling eyes that still lingered before me.

"Blue," he said suddenly as he stared into my eyes. "Well, not _just _blue."

"W-What?"

"Your eyes. I think most people would call them blue, but they're not, not really. Maybe… cesious? Cerulean? Glasz? I don't really know. And they change color, too! Sometimes they're this misty gray, other times they've got this soft green tint to them, but usually they're this bright shade of blue, but it sparkles like when you're staring across a body of water during the sunset."

I stood there, shocked. Intrigued, too, but mostly shocked. He had paid that much attention to me; enough to figure out the all the apparently shifting shades of my eyes?

With a smile that looked kind of sheepish and embarrassed, he said, "You should… probably head home, I guess."

"Y-Yeah," I answered, shaking my head to clear it. Good. All was good. Fine. Really. There was nothing to worry about, nothing to think about. Nothing sad or depressing or panic-inducing, at least for the time being. For now, I would keep my thoughts trained on Blaine, on how the tingling in my lips and the slight breathlessness remained as a reminder, a memory; how his smile warmed up my heart and his kindness never failed to take my breath away.

With these thoughts, I would be fine. Really.

* * *

_-:-Blaine-:-_

My mind was rampant during the drive.

My thoughts were uncontrollable; bouncing all over the place and flitting over thought after thought after thought in rapid succession, barely giving me time to really comprehend what had just flown through my mind. It occurred to me that, in this state of internal disorientation, I maybe should not be on the road. But I didn't really have a choice. I needed to get Kurt home safe. Kurt was more important.

I focused on the car in front of me—Kurt's car—as we drove down the busy streets, scrutinizing his nearly indistinguishable movements and trying to decipher what they meant. How was he? Was he in pain? Was he sad, panicked, scared? I didn't know. This creepy spying wasn't helping either one of us, so I gave up on it and turned my thoughts strictly to the road.

Or… I tried.

The rest of the drive passed by in a sort of blur. I hardly realized half of what I was doing; the driving was automatic and required very little attention on my part. My racing thoughts never once slowed, not truly, until they morphed into a single, indefinable expletive when I had to slam on my brakes to avoid hitting the car in front of me.

"Shit!" I breathed, letting out a harsh breath. "What the hell, Kurt?"

Kurt had slowed down abruptly as we turned into the roads leading into the subdivisions of Lima. Why, I was not entirely sure, though it did strike me as peculiar. I stored it away in my mental library for potential future use. Kurt sped up slightly, traveling at a decidedly leisurely pace down the street, taking the curves softly and seemingly over-carefully.

Maybe he had hurt himself? I didn't know. Maybe, while driving, he was moved in a certain way or jerked the wheel too roughly or swiftly, causing one of his various injuries to flare up in pain. I _didn't know. _An unreasonable amount of worry fluttered in my gut, but I shoved it down and pressed forward.

I returned to studying Kurt. I could pick something out of his actions, this time. We may have been nearing his house or something, as he was glancing from side to side as he gradually slowed even more. Eventually, his car crept into a driveway at the end of the street. I followed, parking right behind him.

I was just about to exit my car when I noticed Kurt was still in his seat. He looked tense; something in the set of his shoulders. I paused, my hand hovering over the door's handle, and waited. Observed.

He seemed to study the house in front of us—what I presumed to be his own. What called for this unusual and sudden scrutiny? Again, I didn't know. He seemed to glance to his right every few seconds; there was nothing there, however. Nothing but empty space in their driveway. There was just enough room for another car to be parked, but there wasn't one there at the moment.

Was that what was holding his attention? The lack of whoever usually parked in that spot? Or was it the opposite; confirming that its usual occupant _wasn't _there?

I wasn't sure—I was never sure with Kurt lately—but something had finally seemed to have settled. He swung the car door open, sliding awkwardly out of his seat, landing on his foot with a grimace. I rushed over to help, handing him his crutches and giving him a look when he appeared about to refuse.

We made it to the front door with little excitement—though the steps had posed an interesting challenge themselves—and it was like we were at another impasse. Kurt was just standing there, studying, listening, examining. Very similar to my earlier investigations, Kurt seemed tense and unsure. Worried, even.

Then it occurred to me; was _I _making him nervous? I was technically his boyfriend, after all—well, I was guessing; we had still yet to discuss the formalities. I mean, I was going to his house for the first time. It was like the first time you brought your date or even a new friend over; you obsessed about how everything would look and appear and how everything would be considered and conceived by the other person. You fussed over every little detail you could to show off your living space in the best possible light. And now, due to the situation, Kurt hadn't gotten that chance.

I saw him swallow thickly, hands trembling slightly as he fumbled to unlock the door. With a hurried glance over his shoulder at me, to which I gave a calm and encouraging smile, he shoved the door open and stepped aside with a meek gesture. "After you," he teased, though the slight waver in his voice took away from his attempt at humor.

I stepped passed him and into the house, letting my eyes roam over the small entrance hallway. The walls were a soft beige with accents of darker browns in the woods and pictures that hung on the wall. One hanging near the stairs hung crookedly; I thought it odd, seeing as Kurt could be so anal about perfection and exactness sometimes.

A little ways in front of me and to the left was the staircase. To the right of it and through an archway was the kitchen. The house felt… odd. Not quite homey—no, that was too warm, too _safe _of a word. It didn't feel too lived in, too loved. Maybe they had just moved here recently? I didn't think so, and certain things did seem worn, but the lack of homeliness did strike me as odd.

I turned around and smiled at Kurt, who was standing in the doorway nervously, wringing his hands together. "Is your father not home?"

His eyes widened briefly in shock. So briefly, in fact, that I was not entirely sure I had really even seen it. "N-No," he answered, taking a few small steps in my direction. "A-At least, not yet."

I nodded in response and returned to my light inspection of the house. I had barely taken another step forwards before I heard a slight startled gasp from behind me. I spun around. "Kurt?"

"Shit," he hissed, standing frozen for second, eyes unfocused before they snapped back to me. "Shit, uh, stay here. Please. Don't m-move, and, uh, s-stay here. Shit!" he muttered again and he edged around me, hobbling as quickly as he could for the staircase.

I took a small step towards him, just barely, and he rounded on me. "No! Please, just… just hold on a minute."

I stood there, perplexed, as he made his way up the staircase, his gait awkward and panicked. Something didn't feel right. "Kurt?"

"Blaine, no!" he called as he disappeared around the corner.

I couldn't help but to follow him, albeit slow and cautious. "Kurt, please, what are you doing?"

"Nothing!" he called again, his voice sounding slightly hysteric. "Just… Just ch-checking something out really fast. Please, just stay put!"

"Kurt, you're worrying me," I admitted, edging up the staircase. I waited at the landing for a moment, peering around the corner, anxiety bubbling in my stomach. "Kurt?"

I saw a beam of light cut across the hallway from a door that was left partially open. All the rest of the doors were closed, and Kurt was nowhere in sight, so I guessed that was where he had gone. "Kurt, seriously," I said, a jittery laugh bursting out of me. "C'mon, Kurt, just…"

I don't know what I was going to say. I never had a chance to even think about what it was I wanted to say, let alone actually speak the words. I had warily stepped down the short hallway towards the door. I could see movement; shadows flickering briefly across that line of light. "Kurt?"

He could hear how close my voice was. "Blaine, I said stay d-downstairs!" he had obviously meant to be stern, but the tremor that colored his words had dulled the effect. Now I was really scared. I glanced down at the carpet, taking step by watchful step towards the room. Fleetingly, I noted that the carpet looked freshly washed; slightly damp looking, a light, breezy smell wafting up with each step. When I was right outside the room, however, I dismissed the random and unnecessary thoughts. How could I be thinking of something as trivial as freshly-cleaned carpets at a time like this?

My hands were shaking as I held them firmly at my sides, balled into tight, anxious fists. I willed them to be still as I reached for the handle, giving it a slight shove. It swung open slowly—horrifyingly slowly, like in a horror film—with a piercing creak.

Indeed, Kurt was there. He spun on his heel to face me, surprisingly nimble and light on his feet considering recent events. My thoughts were stilled, suddenly and shockingly, when I took in the confusion etched into his white face, stripped of color as though whatever fear or apprehension that had consumed him had sucked out his very life essence.

"Kurt?"

One word, one name. I spoke it softly, carefully, tentatively, as though too loud a sound would shatter him. I didn't know what was wrong; the room, which I had guessed to be his own, was immaculate. The carpets in here, too, I noted, also looked fresh and clean. The bed was made perfectly, the sheets crisp and tucked in. Each of his dressers and the desk were very obviously organized; there were a few misplaced bottles or pens, but for the most part everything seemed to be in line. Everything seemed to fit how Kurt would have his room. So why did he seem so confused?

"Kurt? Is something wrong?" I had finally mustered up the courage to ask. "Were you… expecting your room to be a mess?"

He cleared his throat. "Um, yeah, a bit."

"So what happened?"

"M-my, uh, my dad must have cleaned it, I guess," was his answer. He seemed doubtful, dubious, concerned. I wasn't sure why, I wasn't sure what was the matter, but I walked to his side anyways.

"Relax, Kurt, everything is fine. You're house, you're room; they're wonderful."

He swallowed, nodding. He still seemed pale, though, and shaky. I grabbed his hand and tugged him gently out of the room.

"Let's just get you—" I started, before Kurt's hand tightened suddenly over my own. "Kurt?"

"Shh!" he hissed, eyes wide and posture tense as he listened, listened for something I must not have been able to hear.

"Kurt, what is—?"

"Shh!" he hissed again. After a moment, a moment of bone-crushing force on my hand, he let out a pained gasp as hobbled quickly for the stairs.

Confused and concerned, I automatically grabbed his arm and eased him down the stairs. As soon as we reached the bottom, he froze.

Then a heard it.

A car door, slamming shut. The heavy clump of boots making their way up the walk and across the porch. The annoyed huff of breath and the scratching of metal of the key in the lock.

"Dad's home," Kurt breathed.

* * *

**(a/n): Oh my god, I am **_**evil!**_

**I feel bad for using that cliffy because you've been waiting forever for this. Well, hopefully with Holiday Break starting today, I'll have plenty of time to write. :3**

**Speaking of, I hope you all had a nice end of the world! ;) And also Happy Holidays to all of you; you've been so wonderful to me, I can't thank you enough.**

**Oh, and is it bad that I fangirl over my own story? XD Yes? It is? XP**

**Oh! And I would like to know how you would feel with the possible return of Carsonne in some upcoming chapters? **

**You all are lovely and deserve a cookie!**

**~DFTBA and Best Wishes!**


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